I'm Not Okay (Lyn-Z And Gerard Way Fanfiction)

Loser

I walked aimlessly around the Belleville suburbs on the other side of town for about 5 minutes until I realized I was lost.

See, I was already ready for the 'get-together'. I'd changed into less formal attire earlier; if you care what I wore, I guess I'll tell you. I remember things exactly. Eidetic memory. Well, not really. I only remember really important things. And this is a day I shall never forget.

It was a much too big Blur shirt that Jimmy had given me. I think he'd previously owned the shirt, and it went down to my knees almost as if it was a dress. I was also wearing some Purple Rocketdogs and skinny jeans with a multitude of checkered belts on it, with my hair and makeup done as usual. I rarely wore jeans actually, so this was a rarity, and made me feel a little odd. Anyway, after changing I just laid in the garden under the trees and watched the floating clouds with a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a substiute for dinner, just killing time until it was time to go. It was almost embarrassing how excited I was; I set off at least 20 minutes too early.

Still, though. I wanted to be early. What with not having any contact with friends for such a long time, I suppose the idea of actually getting out there and socializing with new people―new, kind, sweet, extremely attractive people *cough*―was such an amazing thought that I wanted to get there and be involved as soon as possible.

God, I sound like I was a sad, sad person, don't I? Well, I wasn't. I was rad, according to Frankie.

Where was I? Oh yeah. So I'd headed out, thinking that I knew Belleville like the back of my hand. But of course I didn't. I only knew my half of town. After all, me, Jimmy, Kitty, Steve and Chantal would never hang anywhere other than each other's houses and the skate park on the outskirts of Newark. I hadn't been since they left. It didn't seem right to.

I didn't want to call Frankie or Mikey really, truth be told. I felt shy to, but obviously I would be relieved when I did. Like when a kid is lost in a mall and they have to get someone to call their parents on the tannoy.

When Frankie picked up, he sounded excited. "Wow, hey Linds!"

Linds. Woah. Nobody called me Linds. Well. Jimmy used to.

I cleared my throat. "Um, hi, Frank, right?"

"The man, the myth, the legend. What's up?"

I told him, embarrassedly, that I didn't know where I was.

And then I had to tell him my surroundings so he could find me.

"Wait there, I'll come and get you. Later!" Frankie hung up promptly.

I swear I was only waiting for maybe 3 minutes (tops) when a big, beat-up van parked―rather awfully―on the sidewalk right next to me. It was caked in mud, and an unattractive greyish colour. When it braked there was whole cacophony of sound; so much crashing in the back, followed by an incredibly loud swear word.

Frankie rolled down the window. He looked hot, truth be told, with his dark hair messy and an unlit cigarette hanging carelessly in between his lips. "Hi! Hop in. Sorry about that noise."

I walked over to the other side of the van and got in, my feet in a small mountain of chip packets. "Sorry you had to come get me. You were fast."

Frankie reached across the clutch to give me a side hug, making me giggle. "Hey, my pleasure, Linds. And that was probably because G's house is only a few minutes away, down that road there." Frankie laughed as I blushed.

Stupid, stupid Lindsey! How could you have got lost, it's right there! Idiot...

Frankie put in an Beck tape into the car player before reaching into his pocket to get a lighter. He lit his, and I watched, my breathing a little hitched. I really wanted a smoke.