Like Driving Toward the Morning Sun || Frerard (COMPLETED)

Chapter 5- liar.

I forgot I was supposed to be grounded.

Hell was unleashed upon me when I got home, mom yelling at me for being late back, dad shouting some stuff about my report card, which, by the way, in his eyes must be the most painful thing he could look at. I was failing 90% of my classes, my attendance was shit and, when I was in school, I didn't pay attention.

Ignoring them both, I went upstairs, shutting myself away in my room, sighing heavily as I lay on my bed.

If I sat up a little and looked to my right, I could see out of the window, where the dusty moon gazed at me, Jupiter and the Orb twinkling nearby.

The light from the meteor was getting less blue and more white-yellow every day. Closer to us.

My phone (which, by some miracle, hadn't been confiscated yet) lit up with a text.

Unknown number: hey it's Gerard.

Okay, but how the fuck did he get my number?

Literally only my family and the guy who can buy me cheap cigarettes have my number.

There's no way Gerard could've gotten it, unless he'd contacted the cigarette guy, which is unlikely. He doesn't smell like smoke.

I decided to ask him how he ended up with my number, so texted back: hi, how did you get my number?

He replied instantly. It was almost scary, like he was just sat there waiting for me to text him back.

I typed in random numbers until I got the right one.

Creepy.

I made myself laugh quietly, imagining a load of random people getting texts saying 'hi it's Gerard' and being like 'who the fuck is this Gerard? Should I know him?' And then text back, pretending to know him.

I wondered how many times that may have happened.

He texted again: this is Frank, right?

I replied with 'yes'

So now we text. Does that count as friends? I hope not.

The whole aspect of it is intimidating. Someone to look out for, more responsibility. I can't handle more responsibility.

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5, 7, 2, 3.

5, open D, 7, open D, 2, open D, 3, open D.

5, open D, open G, 7, open D, open G, 2, open D, open G, 3, open D, open-

Stop.

The sound stopped and I dropped the instrument when the practise room door opened.

Oh look, it's my new 'friend'

"You're good." Gerard smiled, letting himself in and sitting on the piano stool.

I stared at him, "you're not in my class."

"So?" He asked, fiddling with the piano keys, quietly playing a progression I felt I should recognise, but didn't.

"So, why are you in my class?"