Don't Try ♧ Frerard

gerard way, the deaf idiot

"Sir, what kind of shi- stuff should I write about in the school newspaper?" Gerard asked on a particularly shit Wednesday morning.

He had come ten minutes early, solely because he needed some sort of context if he was going to be doing all of these extra tasks for his English teacher.

"There's football games every Friday, you might want to take pictures of those and write about it.." The man sighed as he stacked some papers on his desk.

Gerard internalised a groan of annoyance and just nodded. He head out of the classroom and marched to his locker to put away some of the books he didn't need.

The red head nearly slammed his head into his locker when the door jammed, but managed to avoid it. He went to shut his locker when he felt someone tug at his shirt from the back.

He spun around, only to be faced with the same punk boy from a few days prior.

"Hey." Frank greeted, his hands stuffed into his black skinny jeans.

"Hi." Came Gerard's rather awkward response.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for punching you. I was sorta aiming for whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is."

Gerard's stomach churned in embarrassment, and he sheepishly nodded. "I-It's whatever, it didn't hurt too bad anyway." He tried to shrug but it looked forced and unnatural.

Frank nodded but looked very skeptic, "You sure? It looked pretty painful... I've broken peoples' ribs before."

"Huh," Gerard hummed, feeling his hands sweat in fear, "that's nice. But I'm good, honestly."

The shorter boy smirked at the other, knowing exactly how scared the red head was coming off. Gerard of course, oblivious to how obvious his anxiousness was.

Frank went to leave but Gerard's meek voice spoke up, "Um, are- are you new?"

"New to what?" He asked, crossing his arms over his leather jacket-clad chest. His eyebrows raised challengingly.

"This school." Gerard answered with a confused frown.

"Yup." Frank muttered, walking off down the mostly empty hallway.

The pastel boy stood there with furrowed eyebrows, shrugging off whatever the fuck had just happened.

- -

That, funnily enough, wasn't the last Gerard had seen of Frank.

Turns out, the two had quite a few classes together, including Music. And see, that wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that their teacher believed strongly in group work.

Naturally, the teacher had to assemble said groups, which would only be so obvious because no one in their right mind would want a fella like Gerard in their group. No one had heard him do anything- or rather seen him do anything apart from awkwardly stumble on stage and play a shitty song on the piano.

Most thought he was musically inept, and they weren't wrong.

The only thing Gerard was somewhat okay at, was singing. And nobody ever let him sing, so it wasn't like it mattered in the long run.

"Alright class, today we're starting a new project." There were groans all around, Gerard being one of those many groans.

"Okay, okay, let's settle down. Its only going to be in pairs, and you're going to make a song based on exposure. It's due in two weeks, that's all. You have the rest of class to brainstorm." Mr Weekes sighed, he started pairing people up randomly, and eventually left only Gerard and Tim.

"No- no. Sir, I refuse to work with Gerard!" Tim whined out catching everyone's attention, there were laughs all around and Gerard looked down sadly.

He may have been an imbecile, but he still had feelings.

"And why is that, Timothy?" The teacher asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because he's stupid- and he acts like a girl! He'll probably make us do a Katy Perry remake." The boy exclaimed. There were more laughs, and Gerard turned around to face the other boy. He masked his hurt with a blank face, pretending he wasn't affected by the boy's words at all.

"That's enough." The teacher sighed, rubbing his face in exhaustion.

"Hell- Gerard'll probably do a shit version of 'twinkle twinkle little star'!" Tim screeched.

The red head let out a small breath before getting out of his seat. He couldn't hear anything apart from snickering and the teacher attempting to shush everyone.

Gerard was about to leave when he heard Tim's voice again, making up more lies and insults about thing Gerard Way would probably do. The pale stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath before turning around and rushing over to Tim.

"You're- you're-" Gerard tried to find something- anything he could say that would hurt the boy's feelings. But he was unsuccessful, and that only caused more to laugh.

The pale boy then decided that words were the tool of losers, so he opted for physical force. Which really only resulted in him accidentally kicking the wooden table and bruising his shin.

He gasped and clutched his leg, ignoring the booming voices instructing him to 'stop being so gay' or 'find a better way to end himself'.

"Okay that's enough! Gerard you're with Frank and Tim you're with Jack." Mr Weekes snapped, his eyes tired and dull.

Gerard set down his leg and limped over to Frank's seat, avoiding eye contact. There was more moving around the classroom, but Gerard didn't pay much mind.

There was silence between the two boys, which lasted around two minutes before Frank sighed.

"So, dude, what do you want to do?" He asked, leaning back in his chair. He eyed Gerard, his gaze somewhat softer compared to the one he held when they had met earlier in the hallway.

"I don't fucking know, I'm just a burden. Just do what you want and I'll do the backup vocals or something." The boy sighed, his eyes trained on the small piece of lint on his scratched up desk.

"I can't sing. Besides it's kinda a group project." The Punk snorted, crossing his arms.

"Well I'm not good either, I can maybe write the song- but you'll have to sing it." Gerard said, looking up to meet Frank's intense gaze.

"What part of 'I can't sing' don't you get? Apparently you're an idiot, but I didn't think you were deaf."

That was it. The red head looked up, his red hair parting on either sides of his face as he looked at Frank with a blank face. He locked eyes before speaking.

"Why are you such a dick? I know you're punk rock and that but for fucks sake— I'm not getting my head flushed down the shitter because you don't feel like singing." He snapped, getting out of his seat and grabbing his bag.

He stormed out of the classroom, heading towards the bathroom. It was almost ridiculous to think that anyone in this school didn't think he was stupid.

Maybe he would just have to prove them wrong.