Don't Try ♧ Frerard

football fun

The cold wind blew through the mainly empty stadium. The current school sports team was practicing in the cloudy arena.

Gerard was supposed to be writing his first newspaper article, and he thought the first thing he could do it on, was the football team. In actuality, he didn't give two shits about what they did or didn't do during practice, but it was easy and therefore an easy finish.

He had already interview some of the players, receiving the standard response of 'I'm the best'. Gerard didn't spend too much time on them after that.

The red head opened his notebook and scribbled down the date. He let out a sigh as he looked around the green, mostly empty field. The perfectly manicured turf gave off the smell of freshly cut grass, and you could almost sense the testosterone coming from all of the cocky players.

He sat down up high on the bleachers, writing up some shitty title probably no one apart from him and his English teacher would read.

Gerard pencilled in an introduction quickly and was brainstorming ideas for what he could do when a familiar voice interrupted him.

"'All About The Game'? Doesn't that sound a bit tacky?" Frank snickered from behind him.

Gerard's head shot up and turned around to glare at The Punk, offering nothing but cold eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad you've taken it upon yourself to teach me what I should and shouldn't name my football articles." Gerard rolled his eyes.

Frank let out a sigh, "Look... Gerald, I was kidding when I said that shit in the music room. You're just a bit sensitive."

"It's Gerard you scrotal-smelling-eyeliner-wearing piece of shit." The red head snapped, his lips in an angry line.

"Wow," Frank laughed, lifting his hands up in defence, "where'd that come from?"

"Apparently I pulled it out of my ass- much like your hair. Now fuck off, I need to finish this for Mr Carlson." The red head sighed, going back to writing his draft for the newspaper.

"Jesus Christ, why're you so snappy with me but with everyone else you're so awkward and weird?" The shorter boy asked, moving to sit next to the pastel boy.

Gerard let out a bitter laugh, "Did you just come here to talk about how stupid I am? Because for the record, I hear it enough- just leave, Frank. Go find some other loser to call out.."

It was quiet for a moment before the Punk spoke up again, "Why do you dress like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like.. a girl. I dig it though, so no offence, but it just seems..." Frank trailed off, not being able to find the right word.

"Off-brand?" Gerard offered, looking up for a moment to take in Frank's somber expression before going back to writing.

"Yeah, yeah off-brand." He muttered, sticking his feet up to rest on the seats in front of them.

"Well, I guess I like the colours. Besides, it's not like it matters what I wear, I'll get called a girl either way." Gerard murmured the last part, hoping the other boy wouldn't hear.

"Who calls you a girl? Is it that Robert guy?" Frank asked, scrunching up face.

"It's Bob, and yeah." It was quiet again, the sounds of whistling and chanting filled the air.

"I think you're cute. Pastel clothes or not." Frank said nonchalantly, looking out onto the boy-littered field.

Gerard didn't look up, but he could feel his cheeks heating up nonetheless. His lips formed an embarrassed smile, "Fuck off."

"What?" Frank laughed, looking at the red head through his eyelashes.

"You don't have to try and cheer me up or anything. I know it seems like only a self hating shithead would write for the school newspaper but... I was forced to." The pale boy mumbled, his mood deflating at the thought of fake kindness.

"I wasn't tryin' to cheer you up. Just telling you how it is."

"Why are you even here?" Gerard asked, looking up completely from his almost done paper. He watched as Frank shrugged with a roll of a tongue, smiling a little at the confused boy.

"I came to apologise to you. Something I find myself doing a lot actually." He said with furrowed eyebrows as he turned back to stare at the field. "I stayed because you seemed lonely- shit, that's not what I meant- you looked... friendless?"

"Stop talking." Gerard sighed, looking at Frank with a half smile. "You're coming off worse."

"I... I don't care how I come off." Frank scoffed, though his tone wasn't very convincing.

"Then why'd you try to correct yourself?" The red head asked with a small frown.

"Because I... wanted to preserve your feelings. Ya know? Since you're so butthurt.." Frank huffed, crossing his arms.

Gerard looked at him, his smile deflating and his eyes turning sad. He cleared his throat, "I'm not butthurt.. I-"

"Says the guy who just got offended by being called butthurt." The Punk laughed, not looking back at the red head.

"Just- fuck off, Frank." Gerard gritted out with a stutter. He grabbed his bag and notebook before rushing off the bleachers.

"Come on, Gerald! Don't be like that!" Frank called out, throwing his hands up helplessly.

"It's Gerard!" The boy hollered, continuing his march to his beat up car.

He was so stupid, thinking someone wouldn't insult him outside of school hours. So, it wasn't hypothetical anymore, Gerard Way was going to prove to people he wasn't an idiot.

And he fucking meant it.

- -

That night, when Gerard was wrapped up in his many blankets, he had decided he would do something worth it for once. So he got out his old notebook, one he didn't use for writing about football fields.

He started thinking, thinking about how he had such a dismal amount of friends. About how he couldn't do anything right, and was the laughing stock of the entire school.

About how not only Bob and Tim thought he was an idiot, but how even Frank, the short punk boy, thought he was some butthurt bitch. Hell- he probably only said Gerard was cute because he wanted to build him up only to knock him down.

He could be badass- and not just in front of Frank and maybe Mikey. Gerard Way could be badass whenever he fucking wanted to!

Maybe he would just write a song to show just how cool he is, a song that makes him seem like a fucking- emperor.

" Now life's on a little loose notch,
It's been a bit of a stretch,
So I think I might go,
Just breathe in and blow.
Its awful, you know."

Was the first thing Gerard found himself writing down. He felt his sadness spike as he continued writing and quietly mumbling.

It wasn't long before he was finished, brushing away a few stray tears as he looked at his work. Maybe this is what it would take for people to stop constantly bringing up his chronic idiocy, for people to realise he had feelings.

To realise he was a human.

.::..::..::.

what's good y'all? any news? feel free to rant about your day, i'll be happy to read and attempt to respond! but then again i'm like really awkward do bare with me..