Hearts and Wrists Intact ×Frerard×

Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Tear Me To Pieces, Sell Me For Parts.

Clearing my throat, I took the stand.
"I'm currently on a website called www.MrBryarIsAClosetGay.org. Notice how the '.org' makes it more official." Gerard: 1, Mr. Bryar: 0.

The young blonde teacher rapidly grew furious. "That is IT! Gerard, go see the counsellor!"
Oh, deary me! The counselor? Whatever shall I do?

Upon request, I swaggered my way out of Shitstory class (came up with that one all by myself) with my fellow pupils sniggering things like "douche-bag" and "smartass" behind me but they way they said it was... different than other times. It sounded like they respected me.

I shook my cocky smirk off my face and put my "I hate everyone" guard back up. Since there were no teachers around, I decided to share my adventures with good ol' Frank.

"Just got sent out of class for
calling my teacher a closet gay."

As per usual, the response was automatic;
"Why would you do that? That's mean. Are you trying to cover for something?"

My heart crashed and burned, I
was a fool and he knew it. Tears burned my eyes like lemon juice in a wound. I don't even know this kid but it didn't take him long to think I'm a horrible person.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I just needed to get out of that class. I'll go." I fucked up so bad and now he's going to leave me. Even though this is my fault, I won't let Bert see me cry for whatever reason so instead of going into his office I made a shortcut to the abandoned janitors closet.

Hastily, I shut the door and kept the lights off to reduce suspicion from pedestrians who may wander past. This isn't fair. Five minutes ago I had the guts to sass my History teacher in front of a 24 student class and now im slumped in the corner of a damn closet, sobbing my eyes out.

What was the point of this- all of this. Years upon years of school for what? To become some mindless self indulging cog working a 9 to 5 office job with a wife, two kids and a dog named some generic shit like "Spot". No, that's not what I want. All I want is nothing.

My pathetic gaze landed on the phone I didn't deserve, noticing the message from my friend who was misfortunate enough to cross paths with me.

"Don't go, I like you ): I also want to help you. Can I call you?"
Likes me?
CALL me?
There's a 98% chance that my voice sounded Donald Trump level disgusting but it was a risk I was willing to take. So I told him my phone number.

I stared at my phone in anticipation and after what felt like ages, it began to ring with an unknown caller ID and number.
"Hello?" I gasped into the device.

"Hi, this is Frank!" The audio on this end was choppy and robotic but that was forgivable considering I'm sitting in a closet

I kept speaking embarrassingly loud but I didn't even care. "Hey this is Gerard! How are you? It's so great to be able to talk to you-"

"I'm sorry I can't talk for long" A harsh static-y noise scraped my phone's speaker "I'll get in trouble for being on my phone!" Even the way he cut me off was sweet and polite. I just love him. Not like, 'love' love... but I like him a lot.

"That's fine, all fine..." I cooed reassuringly.

A brief silence passed between us but it didn't feel odd at all, it felt calm; something I haven't felt in quite a while.

"So, I've been thinking-" Another loud crackle from Frank's end. "I think you may have some problems and I want to help." His statement was concluded by a static snap.

I gulped. Hard. Please, please don't think I'm a psycho. I bet he just called me to see if I was even a kid. Oh God, I'm going to cry. He hates me already!
"Y-yeah?" Was all I could whisper into the receiver.

"I gotta go now but I'll message you! Nice talking to you!" And then he hung up.

He hung up. Just like that.
I leaned against the wall behind me and let the tears spill from my raw eyes. Back to square one.

To think he'd even stick around was foolish, I knew I'd scare him off soon. Not this soon though. This was a new record for me, an all time low. I know he hates my guts, I know it. Just like the rest, he wants me dead. They all want me dead. How obvious is it that I have problems? Frank knew from the very beginning.

"You're so easy." Bert sighed as he cracked the closet door open. Startled, stunned and scared, I stared at him in confusion? Did he- "Yeah, I heard your conversation and your crying. Pretty gross stuff."

"I don't cry to be pretty." I hiccuped, roughly rubbing my face with my sleeve. "Why'd you come looking for me anyways? Your little crush on me isn't quite a secret but stalking? C'mon, Bert."

A small chuckle and a teasing smile and then before you know it he's sitting on the floor next to me. "I had to check on my favorite little nutcase!" I automatically frowned at the discriminatory term. But was he bothered? Was he ever bothered? "Besides, gay boy Bryar sent me after you."

My head dropped into my hands and I peeked at Bert through my fingers. "What now?" I whispered.

"Spill the beans about your boyfriend 'Frank'. I wanna know what he has that I don't."