Pretty Odd. A Frerard Story.

Chapter 2 - Gerards POV(trigger warning x)

He was wonderful. So tragically beautiful. The soft way his hair danced over his eyes and how he seemed so comfertable to be by himself. Compact yet absoloutly intriguing. To think I had the courage to go and speak to him made my stomach do little flips. Oh my God, he was talking to me. I felt magical. I couldn't possibly fathom how someone as spectacular as him had the effort to waste his breath on such a fuckup. The way his upper lip protruded slightly seemed to have me transfixed. He was such a stunning study to sketch. So completely unique in a non conventional form of utter beauty. He seemed adamant to want to speak to me again. Probably just feeling sorry for me however I refused to let that cloud my vision and I grasped the opportunity with both hands.
Well, that was the plan until I lived up to my completly stupid self. My drawings went everywhere, scattered around like a snow of art; landing right at his feet was the most rediculosly crap sketch I had done of, fuck, it was the one I'd drawn of him. Frank looked down, eyes widening as he saw the drawing. I could feel my cheeks turning the same colour as my hair, vague at first, a dull pounding, then utterly mortifying tsunamis of embaressment cascaded over me. I prayed to every God I could think of to burn me up. Smite me. Get me the heck away from here.
Everthing seemed to go in slow motion. Him lifting the piece of paper. Cofusement, fear and embarresment flashed over his face in a haze of emotion. I was a fucking idiot. I'd blew ever getting to know this boy in a few seconds of klutzyness.
Oddly, to my great suprise a huge grin flashed across his face. "This is really amazing you know. You've managed to make me look almost hot! Congrats man!" he chuckled. He was clearly under an illuision of his beauty. He was also, very very straight. 'Man' wasn't a term you used when you had feelings for someone was it? Congratulations Gerard, you've let yourself retreat into your fucked up head once again. Its dangerous you know, you should avoid it at all costs. "We still on for tomorrow?" was all I could mumble. I knew his answer. It was obviously, going to be n-
"Yeah sure, if you can draw this good I might let you draw me like one of your French girls." He winked in mock subtlety, before sauntering out, leaving me confused to ponder what the fuck just happened.
I believe I stayed stood in the dank cafe, grease clogging this air for 1/2 and hour in utter amazement that somebody of his standard would even look at me. The utter fool that I am.
As the clock ticked to 6:23 I realised it was time to leave the safety of these walls and enter the real world.
I was absolutely petrified of walking on my own. Never knowing who you'll come across yet being positive some macabre outcome will take place.
As I rounded the corner into my road, I saw them. Stood under a tree as if they were part of West Side Story. This setting sun highlighting every one of their harsh grins. Approaching me, cracking their knuckles in a way which made my stomach lurch.
"Well, well, well boys. Look who we have here. The emo faggot" their ringleader, William jeered. They backed him up like rowdy politicians with laughs and cat calls. "Seems he is all alone. Teaches him right for being such a disgusting gay prick!" Spitting on my face he took a swing. Knocking me off balance. I had no other option but to curl up in a ball attempting to protect my organs as they all huddled in on me, limbs flying, each impact hurting more than the last.
Maybe one day they'll beat me to far. Maybe one day I'll be dead. Death would be pleasant compared to this anguish. Death would be welcome. Heaven or Hell or nothing at all. Each would be completely fine. One last excruciating punch and they jogged off. Laughing and jaunting.
Clearly I didn't deserve to live. Clearly I should just die. I needed to be punished. Fucks sake, I needed to be dead. I've planed it all so many times in my head. I've sat down at compose my note on many an occasion. Always backing out at the last second. Today I needed to, I was going to. In a few hours I won't even exist and that thought gave me comfort.
Letting myself in quietly I raced upstairs. Sat down at my desk and took out some paper and a pen. It wasn't hard to find out what to say. It came to me as if it was one of my main instincts. <Dear Mum, Dad, Mikey and whoever has the indecency to be reading some dead guys testimonial. I've fucked up pretty bad in my life. I've had all the punishment I've deserved. Please don't cry. I'm not worth it. I've been planning this for some time but I've always been a coward. No more. Please tell grandma Elena that I love her. Find Frank from the Café. Tell him I'm sorry and that he was transfixing. I would have liked to get to know him.
And to William and co. I've finally done it.
Faithfully in a better place.
Gerard Way>

Taking the pills was easy. Waiting for them to take effect was the struggle. As I lay there I contemplated how boring dying was. Feeling drowsy I shut my eyes. Note in my hand.
I heard a small knock on my door. No, it's my imagination. "Gerard" I heard Mikey call, "Gerard dinners ready, I'm coming in. You lazy little sh-"
Fuck. Not Mikey. He's to young. 13 is the wrong age to see your brother die. Oh my god. I'm a shitty human being. "GERARD. PLEASE DONT BE DEAD. PLEASE! MUM DAD CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Erupted from him as he flung his bony body next to mine. His wails pained me more than the drugs. I heard his sobs get fainter and fainter until it all went black.