ஜ Capricious & Evanescent ஜ Assorted and Mainly Frerard One-Shots ஜ

Empathy Might Be On The Brink Of Extinction

Kitchen Sink//twenty one pilots

(Just to clarify and before anyone says anything, the reason this has the same title as another one shot is because it's the same story... you get me?)

I screwed up my expression into something sour as I stared at the board. Not only had my English teacher brought the due date closer, but she had doubled the work. I didn't say anything, knowing she would just give me a detention like she had given to every other jock in the past five minutes. The stale, whiny air of protest still sat hot in my lungs though as I scratched out the former date in my agenda and made plans to fuck up my night, just so my body wouldn't be screaming at 3 AM the day before it was due as I pulled an all nighter.

"... And your monologues are being performed on Thursday." The bell rang, signifying the end of last period, and a shiver of disgust ran through my body. I loved acting, I really did, but not here. Not in front of this class of jerks. If I did well, or looked liked I was having the slightest spot of fun, I knew they'd ostracize me if they hadn't already. If you breathed wrong you'd find yourself slammed up against a locker in no time. Individualism, the death of conformity, was also your death by bullying here.

I slipped my bag over my shoulder, hoping against hope that no one would bother me on my way out of the school, but alas it was a ridiculous request. As I was going down a bare hallway I felt someone's hands slam me into the ground, and the binder I was holding belched papers everywhere.

"You hitting on my boyfriend earlier today? Huh? Faggot?" Eliza, my assailant, kicked me in the side, and I groaned. How original. She knelt down next to me, her hair landing in her eyes and making me wonder if she was truly human. If I swiped those synthetic, silvery bangs aside would her eyes be a human color, or would they be a similar tone to her hair, silver, mechanical, no longer real? That's what everyone conformed to in this school, that robotic standard that no human, no personality could ever fit but the archetype that made it.

"I didn't say shit to Bert." I groaned. I didn't know how anyone could be attracted a scruffy guy with greasy hair like him (though I was one to talk), but as I expected, my thoughts only earned me another sharp jab in the side by her track shoes.

"I didn't see him at lunch, and I didn't see you either. Were you cornering him with your faggot lips in some hallway? Trying to woo him or some shit? I know how you feel about him..." No, she really didn't, but I tuned her out around there, unable to deal with her nagging voice and the feeling of her pointed toes making contact with my ribs over and over. Her relationship problems really weren't something to take out on me, I thought, but she really didn't seem to understand that, and rather than blaming her cheating boyfriend she preferred to demonize the people he was attracted to. To be honest, it disgusted me. "... And if I see you even ten feet away from him to 'help' him with that English project, I swear to god—" her voice broke off as I heard a ping go off in her pocket. She rustled around in her pocket, turned away from me and checking the screen. I lifted my head once and then let it fall again. Eventually I heard the sound of her sneakers padding away though. She didn't even care to send me one last pretentious comment as I laid here, I thought, almost gloomily, and burying my head into my arms. My sides ached and my nose was practically pressed into the tile. I didn't even giving a shit about how dirty the floor was anymore. I'd seen the white speckled hall up close and personal too many times to care.

I vaguely wondered if it was even worth getting up anymore. I'd see the floor again, and again, and it was practically my home anyways. Maybe if I just stayed put overnight, they'd turn off the heating in the school or something and I'd freeze to death. That would be nice. Maybe someone would find my body, scream, maybe it would be someone who'd hurt me. Someone who'd cry about how it, feel the eternal guilt of having death on their hands.

"Gerard?" Something snapped in my brain at that, that voice... Shit, was that Frank? As I laid there, knowing my body was a pitiful sight, with my binder sprawled out in front of me, I considered what he might think if I died. Would he care at all? Would he miss my sorry ass? Me, that painful little shit that just wanted a fucking friend at lunch time? "Gerard..." His voice was shaky and all worried sounding, so I decided to groan, just to tell him I was alive.

"Um... Are you a zombie?" He asked.

"I fucking wish." I sighed. I heard his footsteps approach me, and the pop of his knees as he knelt next to me. Then shuffling sounds. I lifted my head to see him, but he wasn't looking at me—he was picking up the papers strewn all over the hall with a dark, faded bruise layered over his eye. Immediately I felt a tug of guilt in my gut. I knew he would develop a shiner eventually but I still felt awful, as I'd patched him up as best I could, but I couldn't stop it. I tried to sit up but my sides screamed in agony. I hissed in pain.

"Don't move yet." Frank said, grabbing my shoulder. I closed my eyes, deciding to obey, and slumped back down. He gathered up the rest of the papers and tucked them into the binder. "The papers are all out of order and shit, but..." He slid the black binder towards me. "I... Can I help any more?" I blushed, staring up at him. I had to make sure this was really Frank saying this, the boy that constantly told me to basically go fuck myself in two to three words.

"Why?" I asked. Frank blinked.

"What?"

"Why are you helping me?" I slid my hands into my body. It almost felt alien for Frank not to hate me, even if I did help him that one time in the bathroom. It wasn't like it made much of an impact, he never even bothered to speak to me, really.

"Um..." Frank seemed at a loss for words, like he didn't know either. I decided to drop the subject though as his cheeks gained tints of embarrassment.

"Whatever, it's fine..." I swallowed and attempted to sit up, sparks of pain crying up my spine. Frank held out his hands in an attempt to pull me up and I took them.

"What'd you get bruised?" He asked. It stung a little, that I hadn't even told him why I had been lying face down in a desolate hallway, but he knew.

"Everything's been bruised for a long time..." I mumbled. "But this time just my sides, and I think there are some marks on my lower back..." I felt Frank's hands gently press down on some skin near my love handles through my uniform, and I cringed, reaching out and grabbing his blazer. I immediately recoiled though, embarrassed by the action. We were close enough to hug now, I realized, or... anything else, really.

"Need any helps getting to the bathroom, or something?" Frank asked.

"My sides hurt, not my legs." I giggled. Frank just rolled his eyes.

"Just let me help you out, asshat..." His expression was almost stony as if trying to ward off any feelings of kindred towards me. I bumped his arm affectionately. He really was a character.

So um... This conglomeration of sin reached 100 views... And I realize that it seems like a measly number, but it's really not. Thank you so much to the people who read this shit, especially to Narrissic who comments on my stuff probably more than anyone and actually gives me motivation to write (also... check out their profile cuz tbh they're a much better writer than me with amazing ideas and stories) (also, um sorry for tagging you, I just wanted to thank you a little bit).

ANYWAYS I just wanted to let you guys know though that any comments you leave on my Sin™ truly mean a ton to me. Even if it's just a dumb song reference, a random comment on the plot, or even criticism (as long as it's constructive), none of it goes under appreciated. So don't be afraid to comment. It lets me know that there is a face behind your anonymous views.
-Alex 🌹