Frank Lero and Gerald Way

Chapter 1/1

It's not like he's gawking intentionally or anything. He's just got a crush on the boy sitting across the schoolyard. Sometimes his eyes just drift that way. He can't help it.

Frank evaluates him, and sighs to himself because he has spent the entire school year just imagining what it would be like to actually go up to him and say hi. He should just say hello. That's all he really needs to do. Just say his name and maybe avoid the part where he's daydreamed about him.

"Who, the everloving fuck, is Gerald?" A voice shouts from it's place on the railing outside of the school. Frank's ears perk up at the sound and he looks at the boy who he may or may not have just been fantasizing naked.

"What are you talking about? What?" A guy who, admittedly, has an overlarge forehead, asks in response.

"Look at this shit," he replies, and turns the yearbook to show his friend, "I'm fucking Gerald. Gerald! Who the fuck names their kid Gerald?"

"You should talk, Gerard," his friend with the big forehead, commonly referred to as 'Brendon', says.

"Did they spellcheck this thing or what? My name is not Gerald," Gerard scoffs.

"It's stupider than that."

"I really hope they added an accidental 'N' to your last name," Gerard says, pushing himself up from his spot. He starts ascending back up the steps, against the throng of people who are trying to go the other way. It's not like Gerard's intimidating but he's got a look of determination in his eyes, so people move out of the way.

Frank frowns and watches him get swallowed by a swarm of students, all chattering about this or that. He can't help but grab his own yearbook and sigh, understanding the way Gerard is feeling all too well.

"What the hell kind of insult would Nurie be?" Brendon shouts even though he can't see Gerard anymore. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go yell at people who have no sense using a fucking computer," Gerard yells back.

"Have fun!" Brendon screams as he flips to the right page in his yearbook. In all honesty, Gerard's probably just mad because he knows that for the next year, he's going to exclusively be called Gerald by everyone who gives half a shit about him. Brendon is certainly going to be calling him Gerald.

Gerard doesn't know who to complain to, but when he gets back into the school he at least doesn't have to fight for his life anymore. He'd felt like Simba in a herd of wildebeests. All the faces he saw were about as meaningless as those anyway. You could say worn out faces...

Gerard looks at the book in his hand. It's hardcover because his school is pretentious enough to think that the students would rather have a hardcover yearbook than edible lunches. In the long run maybe that's true, but there's only so many days where you can put up with mushrooms growing mold. That's right; mold growing its own mold.

He flips through to find the page he's looking for. Past sports teams, musical casts, academic clubs, and all the dorky clubs that people make fun of. Gerard refused to show up the day when they took the picture for Dungeons and Dragons. It was a bad idea. Some noob had let Benedict Cumberbirch, his beloved Treant, fall into a river.

Gerard flips until he finds the page where there's a blurry photograph of the yearbook staff. It mostly consists of the pretentious looking girls who wear the wrong shade of lipstick and don't know how to correctly apply mascara. There's also a few guys in the picture who Gerard is positive only joined because it was the alternative to detention.

He knows where to find one of them though, so he heads in the direction of the quad. Gerard's never understood this school. They make a point to educate every student with an array of different anti-drug classes, but they look the other way when everyone in the world knows that the burnouts get high in the middle of the school. Gerard says burnouts, most people say twats, fuckups, white rasta's, shitheads, or the kids who's daddies left them too early in life, but Gerard chooses to take the moral high ground. That is, if you consider 'burnout' to be more polite than 'shithead.'