Plaid Skirts and Handcuffs (Frerard)

Chapter 1

Sorry for the spam

THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE READING THIS BOOK

1: Frank is taller and older than Gerard
2: Mikey is also older than Gerard
3: I apologize for the characters being dicks

Okay now have fun!

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Bob tripped him, making him fall down on his face. We laughed as we watched him slowly get back up and try to recollect him self, only to have Pete push him back down again.

"Fucking idiot," Pete said, laughing at him.

Mikey got back up again, running off down the hall.

"Fag!" Pete yelled after him.

We just laughed and I felt an urge that I knew all too well.

"Hey, I'm just gonna skip the last two hours," I said. "I need a smoke. Anyone care to join?"

"I'll come," Pete agreed.

"Nah, my teacher is on my ass right now so I have to go," Bob said.

We nodded as Pete and I walked out one of the side entrances. We silently sat on the bench, smoking a cigarette. I looked at the street before us, watching as people went by on their day to day lives.

"Have you ever thought about how pointless life is?" I asked. "Like, there's so much life and species out there and really a single person isn't important at all. If anything, the humans are just destroying the true beauty of the earth."

Pete glanced over at me.

"Are you high or something?" He replied. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Nothing," I brushed off. "I was just messing around to see how you'd react."

"I'd beat you for being a fucking faggot," Pete said.

I frowned slightly because my friends didn't know I was bisexual.

"Yeah, just messing around," I muttered.

"Anyways, how'd that night go with that one chick?" Pete asked.

"It was good," I said.

"Good? That's all I get?" Pete questioned. "Is she a screamer?"

"Can we not talk about this?" I said in an irritated voice.

"God, what's got your panties in a twist?" Pete asked.

"It's nothing," I replied. "You know, I've actually got to go."

"What? why?" Pete asked.

"I've just got some stuff I need to take care of," I said.

"Fine, be that way, fag," Pete grumbled.

I stood up, tossing my backpack over my shoulders. I got into my car and started driving. My foot stepped on the breaks as I got into the parking spot I wanted. I looked up at the large building sadly. My head hung as I walked into the hospital.

"Hi, Frank," Miss Freeman, the receptionist, greeted.

I gave her a small nod, going up the elevator to the designated floor. The room number was inscribed in my mind and could probably never be washed out.

"Hey, mom," I said as I walked in.

I saw that she was asleep so I just sat in the chair beside her bed, trying to fight back tears as I watched her. I can't cry, crying is for wimps. I'm not going to cry. I'm too punk rock for crying.