The Loser's Girlfriend [A Billie Joe Armstrong Fan Fiction]

Soo...it's my SECOND post here in Watt pad and this is a fan fiction about our very own smexy Billie Joe Armstrong and our sass queen, Gerard Way. This is PURE FICTION, and is made purely for entertainment. This story has A LOT of cursing (well, not really) and kissing (again -- not really).

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day or My Chemical Romance or any other familiar names you might get  to read here.

The Prologue: “I Won’t, I Swear.”

- Billie -

“For the last time, Gerard, stop fucking stalking me,” I mumble as I heard yet another pair of feet shuffle right behind me. I turned around and faced him.

He leaned on one of the library shelves casually, his head tilted to the side, an evil smirk on his features. “I’m not stalking you,” he replied, sounding just as bored as I did, “I just wanted to tell you something.”

I motioned for the nearest empty table that I can find, walked over and, sat down; he followed my actions and settled down on the chair right in front of me.

“What do you want, Way?” I ask grumpily as I opened Pygmalion and stopped when I found the right page, “And why didn’t you just tell me what you’re supposed to tell me right now when we had lunch? Why during the goddamned dismissal time?” ‘Cause I’ve got a lot of work to do, I finished in my head.

“She’s there all the fucking time! Why? You wanted me to tell you to not fall in love with her in front of her?” he hissed, although his face remained calm and collected.

I clenched my fist, “I won’t fall in love with Chelsea Rhone. Ever.”

He raised his brow and continued to badger me, “Are you sure? She seems to have fallen in love with you…”

Did she? “No, she isn’t in love with me,” I scoff, all desire to do homework gone. “She lives like a hermit! How am I supposed to have fun because of that?”

“Not my problem,” he replied smoothly, standing up and bringing his bag with him. “Alright, I guess I’ve made my point. You do not fall in love with Chelsea Agatha Rhone, okay?” he clarified and waited.

I looked up, “I won’t, I swear,” and exhale quietly as he turned and finally left me alone to do my Literature homework when I heard another set of feet approach me from behind.

I groan, “oh God, please, Mike, I’ve had enough sermons for the day. Why is everyone -- ?”

“I’m not Mike Dirnt, Billie,” came a familiar voice that sounded like wind chimes. It’s almost soothing except --

I turn around abruptly and nearly toppled over. Shit. Call me screwed.

“Chelsea?”

Aaaaand, that's the prologue. Can people please, please, please tell me if you guys want me to continue because I'm actually at the later parts of this fic and it took me a looong time to figure out if I could post this or not.

Oh, and I'm in need of a proof reader because I suck at grammar and English isn't my mother language so...yeah. Drop me an inbox or something

Thanks guys!

xo,

T.