The Babysitter {Frerard}

*Yup, Definatley Gay.*

I woke up shaking with fear with the realisation that I was going to have to go home tonight. I would've stayed at Pete's house again tonight but its school tomorrow and once I got home I would be in even more trouble for not going home for three nights in a row.

I could stay at Gerard's but he's starting a new job tomorrow that he needs to go out early for. Shame.

We supposedly have a new teacher tomorrow, which I'm not looking forward to. They're probably some old bat that thinks they're better than everyone else. Bullshit.

Pete was already up when I finally opened my eyes. I scrolled through my phone and texted Gerard for a bit before Pete came back into the room with some cereal with almond milk in it for me. I love how Pete knows all of my food preferences and allergies. Every time I visit  someone else's house Pete always makes sure that I have the right food. He's such a good friend.

"Thanks, man." I said taking the bowl from him. He ruffled my hair and smiled down at me.

"You know, you might as well stay here tonight too. I have a spare uniform if you want it." Pete smiled.

I love Pete, but things like this get annoying. I know he's only trying to help and I'd never express to him how much I find it annoying and demeaning but I can tell he pities me. I don't need him to feel sorry for me. I can take care of myself.

"Nah, I'm just gonna go home. Mom's probably worried about me anyway." I lied. She obviously wasn't, she probably just missed her human punching bag.

Pete scoffed but I pretended to not hear it. I really don't want to argue with him. We've only ever had a few arguments but when we had them, they were bad.

"I think I'm gonna head home after lunch." One thing that Pete doesn't know is that my mum 'forgets' to feed me and on the few, rare occasions she does, she always gives me stuff that she knows I can't eat. It's almost as if she's punishing me for not being able to eat meat or dairy. This is why whenever I'm offered food at someone else's house, I always take it. I don't care if it's rude.

"Okay, do you wanna go out somewhere for lunch?" Pete asked, changing into some clothes.

"I don't have any money though." I frowned.

"What about the stuff you earned when you babysat for that 'hot guy' with the 'nice ass' I thought you earned quite a bit." Pete smirked.

I laughed at him. "It wasn't that much, but all of the money I get babysitting is going to my new guitar."

Pete scoffed. "Ahh yes, Frank Iero, the 'rock star'. Strumming his 'rock star' guitar, with his 'rock star' band and throwing his little 'rock star' body around his 'rock star' stage."

I laughed as he pranced around the room, flaunting his hands around and pretending to strum on a guitar.

"Hey! Don't make fun of my dreams!" I pretended to be offended. Pete laughed, "What are you going to do if you don't make in in the music biz?"

"Haha, I will make it. I have the passion for music and enough determination to get me anywhere." I said, daydreaming of what it would be like on stage and playing songs I wrote whilst thousands of other people, who are just as passionate about music as I am, dance and mosh along to my riffs and chords.

Pete ruffled my hair. "Whatever you say, kid. The music business is tough, especially in the alternative genre. Thousands of people try and be the next Green Day but fail miserably, what makes you think you're any different?"

I thought about that for a moment. "Put it this way" Pete started. "I'm going to support you no matter what you do, you could become a serial killer and I'd still stick by your side. If you want to try and make it in the music industry then go ahead. It's a lot harder than it looks, though."