MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE ONESHOTS

young and dumb

(trigger warning for brief mention of crack)

(i uh know i'm a disgrace but i don't actually really like waterparks)

(BUT i got this request a hot second ago and figured why not. the lyrics are cool so sure. honestly i'd prefer the song if the vocals were just g o n e BUT the lyrics are [again] quite scrumptious so i'm writing this)

(i also did some math before writing this and figured out that if they were both 44 right now [gerard's age], they'd both be 16 in 1992. so this is set in that time)

(requested by Blood-Soaked_Rainbow)

Frank and I are pretty good friends because we both like geeky and lame things like superheroes and like to eat our candy first at lunch. We've known each other since I think the seventh grade when he was pretending to be cool and I just sat in class quietly while all the girls and boys talked.

He was — and still can be — real loud and obnoxious, but most people didn't pay much attention to him anyway. This was bad for him, since he always needs to talk to someone, or be around them at the very least. It's how he gets his energy. He thought I was cool, and put his paper lunch sack next to mine one day.

It was the first time I was really interested in what someone had to say, other than family, because I always listen to Mikey, my brother. He talked a lot, and usually I'd get bored from someone talking that much, but I just rested my chin and my fist and listened. It made me smile, and maybe it was just the fact that there was someone other than Mikey to talk to, but I still sat next to him Monday.

Now we were sophomores, and I was allowed to drive my dad's car. Frank flunked his test, so he couldn't drive, but it didn't bother him much. Our houses weren't too far apart, and if he wanted to, he could walk to mine. Mostly I just drove to his, for his safety — we live in New Jersey — and also because driving is rad.

That day, it was rainy and I was sleepy. I'd worked really hard at the grocery store for a Nokia, and a little bit of birthday money from my grandma was all it took to get me just enough money to buy one. I called Frank on it.

I said, "I have Fruit Roll-Ups," and that's all the encouragement it took. He just hung up, which made me jump a little, but then he called right back and told me he forgot to tell me to pick him up. I laughed and got in the car. Backing out was the hardest part because I didn't want to run into the trash cans.

I drove to Frank's, only a few blocks away, and parked in front of his house. He came busting out of the front door with his hood over his eyes and a lion grin on his face. He clumsily ran over to the front seat and almost tripped over his untied shoelaces on the way.

After he buckled his seatbelt, he grabbed his hood and pushed it back. His eyes were smiling too. "Got the goods?" he said cheekily. He threw a loose punch at my arm.

"Nope," I answered, "you'll just have to come home with me." He snorted. I hit the gas.

When we were at my house again, my dad waved and went back to watching TV and my mom welcomed Frank in like she knew I'd called him. Moms are creepy like that — they know everything you feel and do.

When we were in my room, Frank stepped back a bit, then ran towards the bed and jumped on it. It creaked so loud I thought it'd break. I sat on the bed more cautiously and lifted up the pillow. There she laid, my prized possession: my stash of Fruit by the Foot.

Frank waggled his fingers and licked his lips. "Don't mind if I do," he said as he reached for a piece. I took one too and we laid on the bed and ate them, staring at the ceiling.