Kick Me Like A Stray

Chapter 1: House of Wolves - Gerard's P.O.V.

Written by @NoraPotato

I combed my fire-truck red hair out of my face with my fingers, frowning as I stared at my five-page essay. Well, it was only half a page so far. It was supposed to be five pages.

And it was all about figurative language. I sighed. We learned about all this stuff in middle school, yet it is still hard to explain in words that were... words?

I start biting my nails out of habit. I do it even without being nervous, which is probably a bad thing. To be fair, it's not like I have any pills to calm myself.

I always thought that figurative language was interesting. You could tell someone to break a leg, and they'd give you a smile and gratitude, but if you break someone's heart(figuratively of course), they'd give you a stinging red mark on your cheek. Bam. Idioms.

Not that I've broken anyone's heart, but I have wanted to give someone a stinging red reminder of what they've done... but they made me feel like I'm the one who deserves it, and I can't just slap someone. I'm not like that.

Anyways, 'bam' is a form of onomatopoeia. Which, if you think about it, is a weird word because you can't say it the way the English rules want you to because you're apparently supposed to say 'on-o-mon-o-pia,' not 'on-o-mat-o-po-eia'. Saying that is as treacherous as being gay. And that simile is like... a turtle? Okay, so my metaphors aren't turtlely awesome but I get the point and I know what I'm doing.

And now that I've spaced out again, I need to stop thinking about it and do something about the essay that is taking years of my life(hyperbole).

And learn to stop thinking too much. That's what gets me in trouble lots of times.

While contemplating what to write about imagery, my roommate walks through the door with a bit of a strut, if you will. He must be feeling confident about something or someone or going somewhere. I can't strut like that because confidence isn't something I usually feel enough to have a certain walk dedicated to. But it's fun to see Ryan excited about who knows what.

"Hey Gee!" he teases lightly. He knows Mikey calls me that so I guess he does too now. So he's in a good mood it seems. "What about going to the bar?"

I shrug and spin around in my chair. "Sure."

He's a bit shocked at first because I rarely want to go out, but then he just gives me a smile and disappears into his room to get changed, his gay scarf bouncing with every step he takes.

I looked down at my outfit. Red hair, random shirt, and black skinny jeans.

All I need now is a jacket. Hmm but which one.

I checked my jacket closet. Ryan says I have too many jackets. I don't think so, but I'm kinda a jacket slut so I don't even know anymore.

I pick one of my favorites, the thin black leather one, and wait for Ryan to finish.

He walks out the bathroom looking like a soft, gay, boy, which I belive is exactly what he is. He put on a different gay scarf this time though, along with a button down long sleeve shirt with a dark colored vest on top.

I don't know how he does fashion but it's pretty cool. I don't really care as long as I have a jacket and some jeans. And I have plenty of jackets. Like I said, I really like jackets.

~~~

So... Ryan never told me there were going to be a lot of people. I try to follow him through the crowd, almost losing him as he makes his way to the bar. I follow him, ordering a drink as he starts to chat with this one skinny guy that hair screams 'I need cutting.' I'm not the type to judge hair(most people just judge mine), I just think it would look cool if he cut the sides and kept the middle sort of long and he combed it back a bit.

Ryan seemed to be blushing and having fun so I decided to just let him be. He did seem a bit tipsy though so I'll keep an eye on him.

The crowded bar smelled of so much smoke that I swear I was already high. I quietly scanned the room. The buzz of noise swam around my head, as I grabbed my beer and found the last open booth in the side of the bar and sat down uncomfortably, kind-of in Ryan's line of sight.

I now realize I don't want to be here and why I don't go to the bar often. The bar is a house of wolves, everyone being rough and drunk and dangerous and extra flirty and hurtful. Drunk is when you spit the knowingly unwanted truths at the people around you. Even the people who cared about you...

I shake off the thought, taking a swig so I didn't look like a sober loner. Not that anyone was paying attention to me, which I'm sort of glad for at the moment.

I turn to Ryan, making my eyes scream, Save me! Get me the hell out of here! He got the message. Not like he followed through with it though. I guess that makes him a wolf too.

Instead, he turned back to chatting with that tall-ish person. I internally groan, anxiously looking around, though I don't know what for.

So I just take another swig and looked back to Ryan and that boy, and then the one next to them. It seemed he knew the guy Ryan was talking to and he also looked miserably third-wheeled.

That made me giggle to myself. He's not the only one.

I studied him for a bit, slowly sipping and draining my beer. His shirt exposed his arms that had to have had a million pieces of dark art drawn onto his skin. His dark hair went down to his shoulders, just barely touching the broad things. I was also surprised he didn't have a jacket because well, it's fall. But the shirt showed off his back as he was hunched forward. And then his lower back...

I snapped my eyes up and set my beer down, my face going into an uncomfortable heat. I noticed the dark haired guy stand up and look around the room. For a person? No I don't think so. For a seat most likely.

He turned to an angle where he wasn't facing me, and I looked him up and down again, not wanting to stop taking him in...

Shit. The beer must be getting to me.

I groan, slightly annoyed at myself, trying to remind myself that looking at a guy for more than a minute can have very high chances of him catching you staring. And I shouldn't be staring in the first place.

During my mini freak out though, I noticed he was still standing there. I let my legs guide me out of the seat. If Ryan is going to be occupied for an hour, it wouldn't hurt to meet someone new right? Also, the tall guy Ryan was talking to seemed to know this tattoo guy, so he should be fine.

I walked up to where he stood, realizing that he was shorter than I thought. My lips tugged up into a smile for that. I don't know why. Was I a bit tipsy? Why was I trying to convince myself that talking to a complete stranger would be okay because he's short? Well...

I tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around to face me.