Hearts and Wrists Intact ×Frerard×

Chapter Three

Chapter Three: You'll Be Faded Soon.

Surreal. That's the only way I could explain this- this- feeling. It was like some sort of nightmarish out-of-body experience. Quickly, I withdrew my hand from beneath his.

"Oh God, no." I shook my head in disbelief. Bert is what, 23? While it is legal in this state, do I really want to be with this greasy creep? "P-please, there's got to be another way..."

Praise God or the flying spaghetti monster or whoever's up there because for once he honored my personal space and didn't try to make any more moves on me.
"See, I didn't think you'd be strong enough to take up on my offer. You're so pathetic, Gerard, it's actually quite adorable."

"Weak." Mini Shoulder-Satan cheered Bert on. "I told you I wasn't the only one who thought so! I know things, I know all."
Fuck you both.

"So," I cleared my throat hesitantly, trying to drown out the voice in the back of my head (or on my shoulder or whatever). "Is there really no other way?"

Bert's contemplative look shifted from me to something outside the window. Seconds flew by before he spoke up again.

"You know, this counselor crap doesn't pay very well." He said mystically.

Excuse me? Now who's bitching about their problems! However, I shut myself up and watched him carefully, urging him to go on.

"People will do crazy, stupid, even insane things to pay their rent. Maybe even illegal things. Now what do you think of that, Gerard?" He still wasn't looking at me.

I stood for a second, debating whether it was a rhetorical question or not. When he didn't continue, I spoke. "I think that's very sad. I... I wish no one would have to deal with that but I'm not really, y'know, catching your drift."

His eyes shot directly up to mine.
"I'm talking about drugs, Gerard." Heavy. "The drug business is dangerous, for sure, but it does put food on the table."

What have I gotten myself into. A drug dealer counselor who apparently has a freaky crush on me who wants me to engage in his illegal activities so he won't tell my mom about how I want to die? No, no, this is most definitely not worth it.

"Bert, look dude, I'm just a kid!" I laughed nervously, backing towards the door. "Tell my mom what you want and I won't breathe a word of what you just said. See, it's a win-win situation for you!"

And then the bomb drops.
"If you don't do it, I'll tell her about your little fling with the old French teacher."

Shit.

Every suppressed memory clawed to the center of my mind. No, no one can know. The police will surely be involved and he'll know I told. He can't...

Choking and spluttering, I tried to compose myself. "B-Bert have mercy please! You know tt-that twisted... twisted man will come back for me, you're condemning me to death!"

No sympathy, not a hint of regret. "I'll give you a week to make up your mind. You know where to find me. Now, get the Hell out of my office."

×°×°×°×°×°×°×

How has it only been two days? I'm not trying to pass my mother off as a softie because that's like trying to call a venomous spider a cuddly pet; I'm just saying she doesn't have the parenting skills to carry out a full on punishment without getting bored of it. Yet she still refuses to let me near a single electronic device. Even the fucking toaster!

I stirred in my bed to face the clock on my wall.
2:17 am.
Bert's proposition (well, threat) loomed around in my head, keeping that obnoxious shoulder-demon company.

If I keep thinking about that grimey sleezebag I'll probably end up throwing myself out of that tempting window. What's stopping me?

I sucked in the stale air of my room and swung myself off my bed, landing on the coffee colored rug; which thankfully muted my landing.

I shuffled across the floor to my window...

And then I remembered that I live in a one story house.
Jesus, I am sleep deprived.
Let's hope a warm glass of milk will help, everyone thinks I'm a child anyways.

Slithering out my door, I was guided to my kitchen by the pearly moonlight. My stealthy ninja insticts told me to survey the kitchen for anything that would make noise.

But all that stealth nonsense went out the window as soon as my eyes landed on my laptop resting on top of the fridge.

Would... would my mom notice if I took it back? Does she honestly care? I mean, as long as her reputation as a 'sweet mother' isn't publicly infringed on then she'd let anything slide.

I reached up towards the laptop, inching it towards me and then slid it under my arm to pace back to my room. Finally, safe at last.

Trembling with excitement, I flipped the screen up and jabbed the power button with the energy of a small child on Christmas. Blinding light hit my face but it was a warm embrace, a familiar one at that.

"Please enter your password."
Never before have my fingers hit the keys so fast. The taste of freedom was on the tip of my tounge and enhanced by the spice of rebellion.
I'm in.

Yet for some reason the connection was slower than the last time. Had I not shut it down properly? Had I even shut it down at all before having my mother confiscate it? Maybe it just needed to warm up. Opening a few tabs will do the trick.

Firefox expanded and flooded my screen, presenting its nifty little search bar in all its internet glory. Wait a sec- what's this?

Before I could even move my cursor, a flashy pop-up box poofed into the center of my screen.

"Your last session closed unexpectedly, do you want to reboot?"

Odd. I always close my pages properly. I mean, I'm the only one who uses this thing. Aren't I? Just for the sake of it, I'll check out what it was.

I went for the "reboot" option and an intriguing website opened. It was nothing I had seen before, and I thought I saw it all. There was no time to process it, unfortunately; the page crashed within seconds.

I did manage to catch one very captivating detail.
A profile page.
A name.

"Frank Iero"

A/N: Look I told u nards that Fronk Lero would be in here see kids, always listen to your local emo.
thank.
~Toby