The Man I Know I'm Not [Frerard] (Sequel To Tell Me I'm A Bad Man)

One - You're A Heart Attack In Black Hair Dye

The asshole promised he'd be here today.

I looked around at all the faces, at the families of every single student graduating today, and did not see one single streak of red. I swear, if he hadn't bothered to turn up...

The ceremony was taking too long, the hall was too hot, and my mood was lowering. If I stayed here much longer, I'd be too grumpy to want to be around. Sometimes I felt eighty instead of eighteen. Sometimes I sounded it. "Shut up, Frank - you sound like an old man." Brendon often jokingly said to me whenever I complained about something, and I would simply roll my eyes and agree with him.

Where was he?

He told me he'd taken the day off especially to come down and see me, so I could pack my things and hopefully go back with him. But so far, no show.

Typical.

The ceremony ended, and the students filtered into the crowd to be congratulated by their families. I was not one of those students. I glanced around one last time before slipping away, walking the corridors by myself.

It was the last time I would ever stroll these halls, and thank fuck for that. The past six months had been horrendous, the new art teacher being an unattractive old bitch that didn't like me from the moment I set foot in the classroom on her first day. She looked down her nose at me, at my appearance, and, most commonly, my work. So I did with her what I did with the last one: I pissed her off and continually disrupted the class. Except with her I wasn't doing it to get in her pants. I think I'd rather sleep with the Principal than her, and he was probably well into his fifties by now.

I left the school, being blinded by the sun, my intention being to go home and wait for a Skype call that would probably never come, while being ignored by my family, who disapproved of my presence, and had done for the past week. My mom was convinced I was on drugs, and I was convinced that Arnie was having an affair. This resulted in an argument at the dinner table and me being ignored for the foreseeable future, as if it was all my fault.

Those that I lived with were a fucking joke.

My eyes scanned the parking lot, just in case he was lurking there, and I sighed, because there was no sign of him. Asshole. What a complete asshole. Of course timekeeping didn't apply to him.

I walked home in a bad mood, knowing that today wouldn't be the day I left this wretched town. Fuck him then. I'll stay in New freaking Jersey until I find the money to leave myself. Then I won't go anywhere near New York.

He'd been doing that a lot recently; planning to come down for a weekend, or a day, or something, and then cancelling last-minute. The least he could've done this time was call me. "Sorry, baby, I'm a bit tied up with work today, what with them finishing up and all. I'll be down tomorrow, I promise." Yeah, whatever.

I was near my house when I spotted something familiar. The car. His car.

There he was. Stood by a black car, dressed all in black, with a cigarette between two fingers and black hair hanging over his face, was Gerard Way - ex-art teacher of Belleville High and my smoking hot boyfriend.

And yes, he was fond of the color black.

I had to resist the urge to drool, grinning instead and walking towards his car. He hadn't seen me yet, watching some birds in some nearby trees, and he still didn't notice me when I approached him.

"Aren't you hot in that?" I asked, and he jumped, turning to face me and holding a hand over his heart.

"Jesus Christ, Frankie - way to give a guy a heart attack." He said.