Emo Trinity x Reader

Gerard Way x Reader - Ripped Jeans And Greasy Hair

Requested on Tumblr
Warnings: bullying
Word count: 3 387

When you had been little, you always had wanted to go to school. You wanted to learn and make friends and have fun. Now that you were in High School, you still wanted to learn but you doubted that school was supposed to make you feel shitty about literally every single little thing you did. Not to mention the fact that making friends was harder than you had originally assumed. Your former best friend went to another High School so you had barely any contact anymore, and even over the two years you were already attending this school you had only managed to befriend a guy called Patrick, who went to your science class. Patrick was a sweet guy who loved to play drums. Most of your breaks were spent together with his friend Joe, a guy with blue eyes and a dark brown mop of hair. Spending breaks in groups lowered the chance of falling victim to the school bullies. All three of you had actually your fair share of experience with them. Both Patrick and Joe had ended up in dumpsters before and you had once been locked into your own locker for an hour, resulting in you asking Patrick for a week to get your things from the locker for you. Once, Joe had even been shoved head first into a toilet, which lead to the one time Patrick actually got aggressive. No matter how small he was, he seemed to have impressed the bullies at least a little since they stayed away from the three of you after that. You still felt them eyeing you every now and then and you definitely felt saver with Joe or Patrick around, but generally you could not complain. At least not about the bullies.

That was until Patrick and Joe went on a student exchange to Spain. The first days everything seemed fine but soon you noticed the glares of the bulky boys and Barbie girls who loved to bully everyone around them who was not 'perfect' like them. And as if that would not have been enough, you also noticed how the school's troublemaker, a guy named Gerard, kept his eyes on you. He had longish black hair and always walked around in ripped black jeans and a leather jacket. The only thing that seemed to change about him was the black band shirts he wore to school. He was famous for getting into all kinds of trouble, be it fighting with the teachers, insulting or beating up other students or destroying the lockers of students he disliked. You knew Gerard from seeing him in most of your breaks. He always hung out in the same part of the playground as Patrick, Joe and you. Genareally he seemed like a guy who wanted to be left alone, but when someone pissed him off, he acted out. On the one hand you admired him for having the courage, on the other hand: he always overdid it. But now that you noticed his eyes following you in the corridors, you started to feel uneasy.

By Thursday you felt so sick in the morning that you considered not going to school at all, but in the end you did. You were welcomed by the dark, badly lit corridors as usual, the cold smoke of cigarettes, that had not been allowed to be smoked in here, hanging in the air. And you were almost certain that between smoke, cleansing agents and sweat the fine note of alcohol hovered as well. No one had ever said your school was not fucked up.

You walked your way down the corridor to your locker, and were welcomed with a nasty surprise. Someone had written 'loser' in big letters diagonally over your locker; with red spray paint. You knew it was fresh, the smell of the solvent still well detectable in the air, but the writing had already dried. You stared at it for a moment. If it had been possible, you would have started feeling even sicker than you already did, but it was not. You considered for a moment to break into tears and beat up your locker, but that would only please the people who had done that, so you held back your emotions and grabbed the things from your locker that you needed.

Apparently you seemed to be the school bullies new favorite victim since at noon the tray with your lunch was forcibly pushed out of your tight grip and spread all over your clothes and the floor around you. For the rest of the day you had to walk around the stains of the sauce on your shirt and jeans still well visible, even after washing it out several times. You told yourself to ignore the laughs and the pointed fingers and the elbows you got in your ribs, but by the time you arrived home, you smashed the front door shut, sunk to your knees and cried. With still tear wet cheeks you undressed yourself and threw the clothes in the washing machine before putting on your favorite oversized sweater and some sweats. You turned up your music so loud that it drained out the thoughts in your head while you lay on your bed, wondering if there existed a non-permanent way to die, something like temporary non-existance, a possibility to continue existing when Patrick and Joe were back from Spain. After a while you got a slight headache from the music so you turned it off. You continued laying on your bed, not thinking about anything specific until you decided it was time for your homework. You read a few chapters of the book you were currently studying in English Literature and finished some worksheets for Spanish. But when you planed on doing your math homework, you realized that your book was missing. You searched everywhere for it, you even emptied your schoolbag on the floor, but it was nowhere to be found. Just when you were about to give up and sent a string of curse words towards heaven, a ring on the door disturbed you. Wondering who would pay you a visit in the late afternoon, it had to be for you, since your mother was not home from work yet, you walked downstairs and opened up. To your big surprise it was Gerard who stood in front of your door.