toasty_vampire

Teenage.Stupidity [22/24]

2008-01-26T16:00:11Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [22/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG
POV: Frankie's!
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: Seperate Author's Notes are in the chapter.
Warnings: Bahhh. Unrealistic situations, boy kissing.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen // Chapter.Fifteen // Chapter.Sixteen // Chapter.Seventeen // Chapter.Eighteen // Chapter.Nineteen // Chapter.Twenty // Chapter.Twenty One

--

Author's Notes: I'm thinking about just going on an upload spree, since the last two chapters/ep should be read quickly.
Ugh, I hate this part of the story. >.o

--

On my sixteenth birthday, I shoot up out of bed and scream. It’s a Thursday, but I don’t care. I’m skipping school—not like I’m going to that school anymore. Gerard promised he’d try and get here by noon. I look at the clock—it’s ten. I guess Mom was kind enough to let me sleep in.

Today’s the court date. The last step is the judge making sure Gerard is a good “parent,” he needs to make sure at least one of my parents is okay with the emancipation, la-di-da. We’ve already talked to the judge, and he’s assured us that everyone’s going to go great. By the end of the day, Gerard and I will be in our apartment, probably eating left over Chinese or pizza.

Dad doesn’t even say bye, which miffs me. But I sigh and ignore it, hoping that maybe later, when Gerard and I’ve gotten married, he’ll be okay with it. Maybe he’ll see. Who the hell knows: Gerard and I might adopt, if we feel up to it. (We haven’t really talked about it a lot, but it has come up, and both of us have agreed that we want kids, just not quite yet.)

I have a text on my phone, which I immediately open and check out. (The service is being canceled next bill so I can switch on to Gerard’s plan.) It’s at five in the morning, from Gerard. “Be there soon,” it reads. “Ily” afterwards. I smile and check the next message—“two hours away approx—love you.”

Yawning, I walk to my closet, change my boxers, and slip some jeans on. Instead of going for completely messy, I do snatch a nice black polo with a white shirt underneath it, and a red tie. I’m somewhat fashionable when I want to be. I play with my hair in the mirror for a moment before I sigh and slip my lip ring in, grinning at my reflection before turning away.

Once I step into the kitchen, Mom looks up and smiles. “You’re awake, sleeping beauty. Gerard called, said he’ll be here in about an hour. You know our court appointment is at one thirty, and then we’ll haul your clothes into his Bug. You promise, once you can drive, you’ll come down and visit?”

I nod. I didn’t think I’d suddenly feel homesick, but that’s how I felt right now. The thought of actually leaving…it was terrifying.

But at least I’d be with Gerard; I was sure I wanted to live with Gerard. After all, Gerard is the air I breathe. Unfortunately, the time has passed when my mother took that position.

Before I really know what I’m doing, I dash over to her and hug her as tightly as I can. “I’ma miss you, Mommy,” I whisper, not even ashamed of the fact I just called her ‘Mommy.’ I fight back tears by gulping as hard as I can as her arms fold around me. Those firm, rough hands pat my back caringly, showing that she’s going to miss me quite possibly more than I’ll ever miss her. I feel water drop on my head and just know she’s crying.

“Make sure you and Gerard adopt. I don’t want to be grandchildren-less.”

I laugh, squeezing her tighter. “I’ll convince Gerard, and we’ll name him some weird French name, like Jeff, spelled ‘G-E-O-F-F,’ to accompany our French obsession.” I wag a limp wrist and she laughs. “Or if it’s a girl…we’ll name her Geoff.”

That gets mom to hug me even tighter. “Don’t lose that sense of humor,” she threatens. I scoff at her.

“Me? Lose my humor? Never, mother.”

We move to the family room and just talk, not even about anything important. I tell her about the apartment since I haven’t gotten a chance yet. I tell her about our room, how comfortable the bed is, how I love the stereo system. How that one night, the first night, we ate Chinese food on the floor. How the second time—the last time—I went, Gerard had found a small black kitten outside of his front doorstep. He had brought her and named her Batty.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, and I jump up. I open it and as I suspected, Gerard stands.

He looks sexy, in a cooperate-casual type of way. His hair is brushed back and recently dyed, wearing a black suit with a white tie. He grins sheepishly at me, hugging me for a moment before I lead him into the house.

I realize, this is really the first time Mom will meet Gerard.

I cough and hold Gerard’s hand, raising our entwined fingers. “Mom? This is Gerard…and Gerard, this is my Mom.”

Mom stands up and holds her hand out; Gerard lets go of me and shakes her hand. “Hello, Gerard,” mom says sweetly, hugging him. “Thanks for taking care of Frank over the past year.”

“It was my pleasure,” Gerard mumbles, his cheeks flaring. “He’s a very amazing person, Ms. Iero.”

Mom rolls her eyes and nudges me in the ribs. “What have you been feeding this poor boy? Crack?”

I laugh. “No, just some ecstasy.” Gerard snorts, somehow managing to come back to my side almost effortlessly. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and I wrap my arm around his waist.

Suddenly, Mom squeals “HOLD ON A SECOND” and runs up the stairs. Gerard and I exchange weary glances before she comes trotting back down the steps, holding Dad’s camera. I’m about to protest, saying Dad will be angry, but then I realize that I don’t really care what Dad thinks.

She snaps a quick picture. She tilts her head before smiling mischievously. “Gerard? Kiss him for me?”

I look up to see Gerard’s reaction, which is a face as red as an apple. “Uh, okay,” he stammers. He lets go of his hold on me and holds my face. The flash goes off at us, but we ignore it. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, kissing me, and I kiss him back. Mom’s going crazy with the camera. I feel like we’re getting married.

After she’s had her spasm, we huddle around and talk until one. We drive to the court and await our trial.

Needless to say, it goes smoothly. They officially announce me free to care and tend for myself, and we walk out of the court all smiles. Mom has tears in her eyes as she hugs me again, kissing the top of my head.

“Have fun with Gerard.” She looks up at Gerard and almost evil eyes him. “You take care of my little boy, you hear!? If you treat him wrong, I’ll come up and kill you personally.” She winks to show she’s kidding, which releases some of the tension that’s obvious on Gerard’s face.

“Love you, Mom,” I say thickly. I’m fighting back tears again. Shit, I didn’t think this would be so hard. As I sit in Gerard’s car, I literally wave to her car as we drive off in the opposite direction of her.

We sit in silence for a few moments before Gerard says, “She seems nice.”

I nod at her. “She really is. I’m going to miss her, a lot.”

“We can go visit,” Gerard offers. “I mean, it’s hard to get down here, but it’s not totally inaccessible. We can go down next weekend if you really need to.”

I shake my head at him. “No; I’ll go down when I’ve already planned it with her…you know, major holidays. I’ll be okay as long as I call her every now and then.” I shrug and turn my attention to the road. I kick my shoes off and plop my feet up on the dashboard, turning up the music.

Gerard just laughs at me and puts his hand on my thigh. It’s warm, even through the material of my jeans. My hand falls on top of it and he turns to smile to me. I smile back and we drive in silence.

We arrive at our apartment at about nine at night. We stopped for pizza before we got in, so we have a gigantic box of pizza that will last us at least three days in our hands.

We eat at the dining room table. As I finish, I stretch and yawn. “I’m going to bed, come on.”

Gerard raises an eyebrow at me. “Frank…I have a shitload of homework to do.”

“Oh,” I say, voice faltering. He frowns apologetically to me.

“I’ll be in later, alright? I love you.”

“Love you too,” I sigh, swooping down to kiss him lightly on the lips before disappearing into the room, slightly confused.

Teenage.Stupidity [22/24]

2008-01-26T15:59:33Z

Teenage.Stupidity [21/24]

2008-01-05T04:56:47Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [21/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-13 for language
POV: Geetard!
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: Seperate Author's Notes are in the chapter.
Warnings: cuteness, sleeping together, language
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen // Chapter.Fifteen // Chapter.Sixteen // Chapter.Seventeen // Chapter.Eighteen // Chapter.Nineteen // Chapter.Twenty

--

Author's Notes: I feel bad.
You guys think this fic has a happy ending.
>> << ><

The next two chapters are weak. I only take one chapter to describe something that is really monumental, but for my own purposes. [As in, to speed up time and to show that it's not so much a dramatic thing as a...yeah.]
But, please, no more of these "happy ending" comments. D: They kill me. I feel bad when I break the news.
The last chapter and the epilogue will be released at the same time ;;

--

I lug boxes out of the truck my dad let us borrow as Frank caries them inside the apartment. He’s moving a lot of his stuff, too, just so it’s not quite such a hassle when he moves in. A little more than a month left, I think with a sigh. It’s mid September, on a weekend, so Frankie’s not in school. My school doesn’t start until next week—late, I know—so I have a little bit to get used to my surroundings.

It was a hike, getting up here. About a six hour drive. We left Friday night and got here just around three AM, crashing on the floor of the apartment. We woke up, smiled broadly at each other, and got to work.

So far, we got our bed in, the TV and TV stand, a dresser, and a computer desk. Everything but the computer desk goes into the bedroom.

I’m panting, carrying two heavy lamp-desks as I say, “go get the computer and put it on the desk.”

He salutes me and slips past me as I drag the two hunks of wood into the bedroom. Once I have them positioned on either side of the bed in a satisfactory way, I turn around and head down the hallway. Frank’s installing the computer for me (little computer nerd), so I go and get my bookshelves with a heavy sigh.

Once those are in the bedroom, I begin to tug out the threadbare couch Mom’s been saving for me for a few years. It’s my favorite couch, honestly. I love all the patches: it reminds me of home. I push it against the wall and put even more lamps up on stupid little lamp desks. Yet another bookshelf goes in here, as long as I large stack of movies. Our CD rack is next to my very old stereo, which is in the center of the room. Frank is bringing his fantastic amps, so we’ll have about six amps all around the living room—not to mention the rest of the house. (All in all, we’ll have six around the living room (that includes the pathetic excuse for a dining room), two in the hallway, one in the computer room, and three in the master bedroom. In case you’re wondering, yes, when we pooled our amp collection together, it really came up to twelve all-in-all.)

“Frank!” I holler. He sticks his head out of the computer room, head tilting to the side.

“Mmmmmhm?” he asks. He has nails in his mouth from trying to get the amp in position in there.

I point to the door. “I’m going to need help getting the dining table in.”

He rolls his eyes, spitting the nails out. “You’re such a pansy: why the hell do we need a dining table? We’re going to be eating on the floor while playing music and doing homework, you know.”

“So my mom doesn’t kill me when she comes to visit.”

He just grins and punches me in the arm, but heads out of the apartment. Together, we haul the table out and set it up, arranging the four chairs in order. The last stuff to bring in is all boxes, like my clothes (he’s bringing his clothes later), kitchen shit, books, and more CD’s.

Once the amps are in position, the computer is installed, the TV is working with the Comcast Cable box installed (good thing we remembered to get it installed as soon as possible—we would have died!), we head back out to the car to grab the rest of the shit. Frank pretends to drown in my collection of books, forgetting that half of them are his, too.

My college textbooks go on the shelf in the living room, all our personal books in the bedroom. I hang my clothes up while Frank lies on the bed, mussing up the careful work I’d done to make it look perfect. (There was an art in making a bed, trust me.)

“My next project is to paint this room,” I muse as I dance back into the closet to put another armful of clothes in. He laughs.

“How are you going to paint it?” he asks, and his shoe comes sailing at my head. I drop the stack of clothes and scream “shit!”

He cracks up, but at least he comes over to make sure I’m alright. I nod and rub my head, rolling my eyes. “Eh, to answer your question, not sure yet. What ever I feel like painting, I’ll paint.”

Frank nods in understanding, as if it makes perfect sense. I’m sure it doesn’t, but at least he’s not begging me for an answer. I pick up the clothes I’ve dropped, hang them up, and move to put the rest of the clothes in my side of the drawer. Basically just my pajama’s and sweats.

By the time we’re done organizing everything, one of our three digital clocks (excluding the Comcast one in the room—there’s one in the computer room, one in the kitchen, and one in the living room) informs us it’s even.

We nod to each other. “Time to go eat.”

As our bachelor dinner, we get Chinese food.

We bring it home and, as Frank predicted, we eat on the floor of the living room. We choose to listen to Iron Maiden, and I sing along, as does Frank. His guitar is sitting next to the stereo, his case beside it. Inside, I’m sure, are his practice-books and picks. He’ll be continuing his lessons, mainly because I threw a fit when he told me he was thinking about quitting to save money.

By the time we’ve gotten most of the food in our mouths, and we’re not quite as hyped up as we had been, it’s nearing ten o’clock. We throw away our leftovers and look into the empty refrigerator before laughing, hugging as tightly as we can.

He mumbles, “I still can’t believe that this is our very own place.”

“I know!” I squeal, looping our arms into each other. “Let’s go check out the bed?”

He grins at me, and we race to the bed, jumping into it at virtually the same time and crawling under the covers. We haven’t undressed into pajamas, or anything. We’re just lying beneath the blankets, in our jeans and work clothes, clutching each other.

“Let’s watch TV,” Frank suggests, and we do. We order a movie and eventually he migrates towards my lap. I let him sit there, since he fits so damn well there anyway. I pet his head, stroking him while he runs his hands up and down my thighs.

By the time the movie’s over, it’s around twelve at night. I see him yawning so I switch the TV off when the movie’s over. “It’s time for bed,” I say.

He nods. He’s not about to argue with me, I know. I’m giving him to chance to finally sleep with me…not that way.

We both slink out of bed and transfer into pajamas, ignoring our shirtless, boxer-clad selves during appropriate times. He merely throws on a large shirt, but I slip sweat pants on as well as a big shirt. We go back to the bed and sink in.

Immediately, my hands curl around his figure. He curls into a ball, body fitting against mine perfectly. I hug him as tightly as I can to myself, closing my eyes and burying my face in his neck.

The next morning, I have to drive him home.

The drive home is a sad one: he knows he won’t see me for another two weeks, when I’ll pick him up again, in two weeks on Friday night. When I arrive at his house he turns to me and kisses me desperately.

I kiss him back, afraid to go through my first week of college without him. Oh, hell, I’m afraid of living without him for that long.

“Promise to call?” he croaks to me.

“As long as you promise to pick up,” I answer him back, which earns a smile. We kiss again, tongues meeting in between before he pulls away and steps from the car.

“I love you. Good luck.”

“I love you, too.” I wave goodbye as I drive away from his house.

Teenage.Stupidity [20/24]

2008-01-04T04:49:56Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [20/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of wet dreams
POV: Gerard's again
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: Ever wonder where this idea was conjured up? Ever wonder what Frank and Gerard's kissy-place looks like? If you have, I have something to make you smile - pictures of a trip to Grounds for Sculpture. Just click here.
Warnings: Fluff, sadness, cute. Coming out. Crazy Author's Note >>
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen // Chapter.Fifteen // Chapter.Sixteen // Chapter.Seventeen // Chapter.Eighteen // Chapter.Nineteen

--

Author's Notes: Well, a lot of shit has happened, I guess.
**I will now have personal experience of coming out. Not only did my friend have an explosive one, I had a relatively calm one.
**I will now have personal experience of what it's like to be in a relationship where the person loves you as much as you love them.
**I will now have personal experience of homophobic friends who think they're 'helping' you. ><
If you guys want me to, I'll write another little piece on what's happened. Just give me the word. ^^
[Oh shit she sent me the cutest text message -cries tears of happy joyness-]

-skips off humming-
Btw, this chapter is one of my favorites. x3;

--

The following month or so, Frank and I spend every minute together. He’s either at my house, or I’m at his house. (Yes, believe it or not, I venture into his house because both of his parents are workaholics and manage to leave him alone during the day, and often all weekend.)

It’s so nice, spending every possible minute I can with him. I’m never away from his side, when I can help it. A couple of times, we’ve gone to the mall and just roamed around, and we both clung to each other for dear life. It was like, ‘if you let go of me, I’ll die.’ Of course he knew that I’d never, ever leave him. Never.

As the month wore on and the hot, arid days of June melted into the heavy and humid days of July, the increasing need to tell my parents about Frank and I’s relationship grew. I talked to Frank about it, and he agreed that I should tell them, soon. But, it’s just how soon that made both of us scratch our heads in confusion.

Mikey stopped asking me if I was gay, but it became increasingly obvious that he knew. My wet-dream phase seems to have passed (much to my relief), so when he came down most nights, at least it wasn’t like I was teeming with the energy he was. But on those nights, he’d come and curl up next to me in the bed, mumbling questions about what it was like to have a boyfriend.

I’d answer him, of course. In his half-asleep stupor, I was sure he wouldn’t remember what I was telling him. I told him how wonderful it was to hug, touch, kiss Frank. I told him how much I loved him, how much I cared. Some of his slurring questions related to what it felt like to kiss someone who you really loved. I always responded it was fireworks, it was better than fireworks. It was the most amazing thing you could ever experience in your life.

He never confronted me in the morning, or acted differently, so I hoped my prediction was true—he never remembered. I’m content to confessing to him, because honestly, I need someone to blather to every now and then. Sometimes it feels like I love Frank so much, I’m going to implode from the sheer emotion.

One night, about ten o’clock, Frank was sitting in my basement room. He was sprawled out on my bed, looking angelic, beautiful, overall perfect. Standing on the staircase, I was hidden so that he couldn’t catch me staring. He took my breath away; the slight smile curving his lips, his hair falling into his face at just the right angles. His lips slightly parted as his eyes glued to the TV screen, watching some movie.

I had come into view and Frank’s head turned, his smile broadening when he saw me. “Hey,” he whispered.

God, I remember how my knees got weak. It was as if it suddenly hit me, right then and there, that Frankie was mine. I just stared at him, he stared at me, and before I knew it I had pounced on him and my arms were wrapped around him, tight.

He giggled as he asked, “what the hell?”

I mumbled into his neck. “You’re beautiful. My angel, my life.” I clung to him, tightly, kissing him on the neck, but that was it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

He hugged me back. “I promise I won’t. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, my voice had cracked.

I’m remembering this while holding Frank. I’m not sure when he fell asleep, but he did. We’re at his house, one of the weekends where his parents are away. We were watching some movie, sitting on the floor, just holding each other. Somewhere around one of the boring parts I began to hear his snores. I had laughed and pulled him closer to me, burying my head in his hair.

I love the way he smells…it’s just, Frankie’s smell. A mix of a coconut-smelling shampoo, axe body spray, and a musky, human scent. Mixed together it’s my drug. I breathe deeply and hold the scent in my nose as long as I can before I exhale softly, snuggling my face into his hair.

In just three months, he’ll be all mine. He’ll be living with me, sleeping in my bed, and I’ll have him all to my damn self. I’ll never let him go.

Never.

Later on that week, I turn to Frankie and whisper to him. “I need to tell my parents, now.”

He looks at me before nodding seriously, taking my hand in his. “I’ll be with you.” I just nod at him and we walk up the steps from my basement. It’s the weekend again, and my parents are both home, as well as Mikey. I gulp and squeeze Frank’s hand as I tell my parents to go get Mikey and meet me in the family room.

It takes a few minutes to round up the entire family, but we manage. Frank’s sitting on the couch and I’m standing up. Everyone’s looking at me. I catch Frankie’s eye and he smiles at me, which gives me the courage to go on.

“Erm, guys?” My mouth is dry. “I have a confession to make….”

“What is it, son?” my Dad asks kindly.

I suck in as much breath as I can and blurt it out. “I’m gay.”

Mikey smiles broadly at me, winking and giving me the thumbs up. Mom and Dad exchange a look before Mom smiles at me. “And, Gerard? This is news to us, how?”

I nearly choke. “You knew!?”

Dad laughs, and I’m not sure whether to laugh along with him or be completely startled. “Gerard,” he says seriously after he’s done chuckling. “Sometimes, people just know.” He cracks a smile. “And, the fact that you spend just a little bit too much time with Frank was a tip off, too.”

Deflating, I go and sit on the loveseat Frank’s on. Frank’s just smiling at me, in a way that mocks, I-told-you-so. I want to smack him and tell him that he didn’t tell me that this would happen, but of course don’t.

“So…you guys are okay with it?” I ask them, weakly.

Mom, Dad, and Mikey all nod in unison. “Of course we are; you’re our Gerard…and Frank is our Frankie.” My mom said this, which causes Frank to laugh. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I see the slightly hurt expression. I want to go melt and die.

How come my parents are so accepting, when his parents aren’t?

How come I get lucky, when he doesn’t?

He deserves it more than I do….

“Well, uh, Frank and I are going to go and go get something to eat…alright?”

Mom nods at me, and so does Dad. Neither make any snide remark, like, “remember to use a condom,” or anything, of which I’m immensely relieved. I snatch Frank’s hand and we both dart out of the house, swinging into my car as fast as we can.

I take a deep breath and turn to him. “I am so, so sorry.”

His smile is a bit tight, but it’s a smile. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault…,” his voice trails off as his eyes lower. “It still upsets me, though. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a dad, but then again, I can’t imagine my life without him.”

Nodding, I embrace him as best as I can in the car. “I’m still sorry…I’m going to kill them later for that. That was…” My voice trails off. There are no words to describe how totally uncalled for it was.

Frank shakes his head vigorously in protest, though. “No, don’t. It’s not their fault, either. They didn’t know.” He frowns, tilting his head back against the head rest. “It’s not their fault I got the shittiest set of parents…one of them so homophobic it’s sick, the other too afraid to stand up for her own damned son.”

I don’t know what to say, so in substitute for words I kiss him, hoping it’ll be enough to at least break his mind away from the sad thoughts.

…but I know it will never be enough.

Teenage.Stupidity [19/24]

2007-12-28T15:46:25Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [19/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG for kissing.
POV: Gerard's.
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: Ever wonder where this idea was conjured up? Ever wonder what Frank and Gerard's kissy-place looks like? If you have, I have something to make you smile - pictures of a trip to Grounds for Sculpture. Just click here.
Warnings: Cute, fluff, coming out.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen // Chapter.Fifteen // Chapter.Sixteen // Chapter.Seventeen // Chapter.Eighteen

--

Author's Notes: I'MA WHORING OUT MY PICTURES!
CLICK HERE IF YOU READ THIS STORY x3

And, uh, yeah <33

--

Having Frank in my life makes life worth living.

It’s not exactly as if I was suicidal before I met Frank, but I had been wandering around, aimlessly. Hardly living for myself. Unsure of my future, only knowing I wanted to make it to an art school, only knowing I wanted to make a living. I had never pictured myself having a girlfriend (boyfriend). My thoughts of me getting married were that I would meet a girl in school, and marry her, maybe have kids to shut Mom and Dad up. I never thought that I could be physically attracted to anyone—or, better yet, never thought anyone would be attracted to me.

But, Frank is like this little ball of happiness. He’s always laughing, always hugging me, always kissing me. He can find the bright side to anything, it seems. When he’s sad, I feel like the world is going to end. It’s just so…wrong. Not seeing a mischievous smirk on his face is enough to crack my heart.

Frank gives me a reason to breathe. Before, life was just a step-by-step procedure; something that had to be completed. But, now, life has meaning. Or, if not meaning, at least something to make me want to succeed. Now, instead of just wanting to make it by, I want to seize the moon and wrap it up for Frank. I want to hand him anything and everything in a neatly wrapped box, topped with a bow.

His birthday present to me would be deemed as pathetic to anyone else, but it was adorable to me. I know he’s not a cook, so just the thought that he tried was enough to send my heart squealing. Believe it or not, the dinner was actually pretty good. And, of course, the CD’s he gave me were CD’s I hadn’t even told him I wanted. It surprised me that he knew I liked those bands.

Right now, I’m standing up on a platform, dressed in a brown gown. I’ve got the fabled hat on, too, and I’m walking up to get my high school diploma. I’m still startled at the thought that I’m actually graduating high school. I take the scroll of white paper, looking for a moment into my principal’s eyes before smiling at him. I walk off the platform and look into the crowd, immediately spotting Frank.

He gives me the thumbs up and I give them back to him, running off the stage. He zooms out of the crowd and smacks hard into my chest, embracing me so hard I almost trip over my gown. “Congratulations!” he hollers in my face, as if I can’t hear him. He snuggles into my chest, uncaring that his dad is glaring at him painfully. My parents are somewhere in the crowd, probably wondering what the embrace means. I’ll be telling them, soon, now that I’m officially a high school graduate and can take off when ever I like. College in the fall, after all.

I pull Frankie off of me and lace my arm into his, holding the diploma in the other hand tightly. He tilts his head on my shoulder and finds a way to hug me while walking. “I’m so freakin’ proud of you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I roll my eyes at him. “I’ll be proud of you, too, when you graduate high school.”

He punches me. “Don’t demote the day! Come on, Gerard, be happy! You’re free, now. Nothing holding you back. Besides me, of course.” He grins at me and I can’t tell if he’s joking, or halfway serious. I hope he knows that he’s not holding me back, he’s pushing me forward.

Mom and Dad come over and knock Frank away from me. He gladly steps away and gives my parents the rights to squeeze the shit out of me. Mikey joins in on the group hug, too, screaming “LET’S ALL GLOMP GERARD!”

Mom pets my hair, as if I’m five again. “We’re so proud of you!” Dad nods vigorously and Mikey just smiles sweetly up at me. He’ll probably have more to say to me later tonight, but just doesn’t want to say it out loud in front of everyone. “Our baby graduated high school.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I snicker, earning a thwap on the head from Dad. With my diploma that he’s wrenched from my hands to look at as if it’s gold. I tug away from their embrace. “I’m gonna go celebrate with my friend, alright? I’ll be home tonight, so you know.”

Dad snorts at me. “You better be home mister, or we’ll—”

“What?” I grin stupidly at him. “I’m a graduate and an adult! You can’t ground me.”

He just glares at me playfully and punches me in the arm. “Love you, Gerard.”

I hug everyone again, tightly. “Love you too, guys.”

I turn towards Frank and we both skip out of the building quickly, Frank not even saying by to his dumb-ass parents. We head to my car and once I turn on the car and flick the air conditioning on, I turn to him and ask, “where to?”

He smiles weakly. “I was thinking…Grounds for Sculpture?”

Immediately I gun the car and we’re heading off towards the park. I hadn’t even thought of that, but now that I think about it, if we want privacy, that’s the place to go. It’s really only about one in the afternoon, since the ceremony took place during the day (the day after school let out), and the park closes at seven. So we have a lot of time…probably, like, at least four hours to ourselves. Just the statures, nature, and the two of us.

As it had in the past, it took us about two hours to get there. I hand the man the money at the front gate (having a job is wondrous) and we find a parking spot. When we crawl out of the car Frank immediately latches onto me, so tightly I feel like my arm is going to fall off. I laugh and yank away, so I can hold him, too.

We wander through the gardens, coming to the Weeping Willow, where we shared our first kiss. Frankie just looks at me, wordlessly, and sits down. I was smart enough to take off my gown before coming in so I’m not worried about staining it. I sit down next to him, looking out at the lake.

“When are we going to move into the apartment, Gerard?” Frankie asks after a few moments of silence. We’re sitting with our arms wrapped around each other. His head is on my shoulder.

I tilt my head to the side, wondering. “Well, you can’t move in till your birthday…sorry, Frankie…but you need to be old enough to be legally emancipated from your parents.”

He makes a noise of disgust, but doesn’t protest. I know he understands.

“I was thinking of moving in around August? A week or so before school starts so I don’t panic.” I feel him nod. “The apartment complex I have my eye on is nice. It’s about five miles away from my school, about a mile away from the high school, so you can walk there if you want to.”

He giggles. “I think I’m gonna probably want to walk. That will be fun.”

I pull him closer and smile at his laugh. “And it’s a two bedroom apartment, so I can have an office, or what ever, and then we can have our room.” He squeals a little, which makes me smile even wider. I don’t think he was expecting me to agree to us sharing a room (a bed), but I decided that we should. Not because I want to necessarily do anything, but because…he’s my Frankie. It seems like the right thing to do: I want to be able to sleep next to him, finally watch him as he’s asleep. Not have to wonder, dream about how he looks with his eyes closed and his mind shut off. I’ll finally be able to see.

Sighing, I inhale the slight musky scent of the park. I like the smell, it smells familiar. Safe. Probably because when ever one of us has a bad day, we dash here to relax. When it was cold we’d sit in the Warming Hut, when it warmed up, we’d sit in the middle of the bridge over the water. Very, very rarely were we bothered.

“I can’t wait,” Frank mumbles. “I feel like a little kid again. Jumping up and down in excitement for my birthday.”

He snuggles into me. “I can’t wait, either. It’ll be a dream come true.” I murmur the words so softly I’m afraid he won’t hear, but I know he does because he wiggles away from my shoulder to kiss me.

I kiss him back, carefully. I hold his hands in my hand and deepen the kiss. We kiss for a few minutes before he pulls away, putting his head in my lap.

We sit like that for God knows how long. Both of us conjuring up how wonderful it will be to live together—whether in spoken words or telepathic words. I run my fingers through his hair, leaning down to kiss him every so often.

Grounds for Sculpture Photos

2007-12-28T15:37:35Z

Hey, guys.
I promised a few months ago, idk, that I'd take pictures of the place where Teenage Stupidity takes place.
Well, yesterday, my fmaily and I went back there. And I was blessed with my beautiful camera, named Malik, for Christmas.
So I snapped a few pictures.
Here are my favorite. If you're ever in the Jersey area, I more than suggest visiting. It's well, well worth the money to get in, well worth the hour or so drive from my house to get there.
x3

Mah Photos
[Btw, I made up these titles, they're not the titles of the actual pieces. I claim no credit for the pieces, only the photographs.]

Black or White, Copper or Rust
One of the many realistic statues there. I was looking closer at the faces and saw, to my immense shock and surprise, that his face was two different colors. I'm wondering if the artist purposely did this or not.

Broken Ribs to the Heart
One of the figurines by the enterance to the sculpture gardens. I love it.

Cuddle
I'm such a freak - when I see this, I automatically squeak and say, "Frerard!"

Engorge
On the back of this is a guy with a penis, but all my photos of it came out like shit. ><

Green as Envy
My favorite sculpture in the entire park. x3 Btw, the title is a joke...since a lot of the statues are getting green from being outside in the rain. AHA I AM SO WIN.

Grounds for Sculpture
~~It's way prettier during the spring and when it's not so cold you can't move your jaw~~

If I'm Your Frank, be my Gerard
YES. I TOOK THIS PICTURE FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE THAT AS I STUMBLED ALONG THE PATH, IT LITERALLY SCREAMED TO ME THAT IT WAS FRANK AND GERARD. I think I need to take a break from Frerard.

My Muse
I was sitting right there when I got the idea for Teenage Stupidity.

Peeking Tom
I had to climb over a lot of shit to get a picture of this.

Perverted Boy
The first time I saw this, I thought a real guy was sitting underneath them. I was gonna throw rocks at him.

Stand and Wait
I often wonder if this is based on the Great Depression.

Star Crossed Lovers
This is the guy with the multi colored face. I like what this represents...

the Artist Ponders
He's painting. x3! AHA BRILLIANT DEDUCTION.

the Great Pretender
Oh, I am the Great Pretender, Willing to Dream Forever -
Poor little waterfall, it looks so lonely and sad when there are no flowers all over it. :<

The Lord is My Yodeling Shepard
This statue scares my dad and I...a lot. We don't understand it.

What two Dicks Make
This has been there since we first came about a year ago (unsurprisingly). It's also mentioned in the fic because it shocked me so much...haha...I still think it's cool statue though.

Where the Wind Blows
I love the angle of this. It makes him look kind of cooler, I guess. This is my friend Matt's "best friend," as we often refer to him. We go and talk to him for a few minutes when we go together, but he hardly ever responds.

Just One Kiss for Stupidity
Yes, this is where I've pictured Frank and Gerard sharing their first kiss. It's so much prettier in the spring, I'll prolly have pictures. But if you ever thought of Frank and Gerard kissing somewhere somewhat similar to this, you can picture what goes through my head.

Teenage Stupidity
Another picture of the area with more of a feel for how it drapes over...I sort of want my first kiss to be here, too. XD;

There you have it! I have a few more, so if I get enough people going "OMGZ MOAR" I might post them up.
And, if it comes down to it, I'm taking pictures in the Spring. So if I remember I'll put a link up on FxG for anyone who remembers. Okay? <3
[I will wind up posting this fic to MCS eventually.]

Anyway. If you're really interested in visiting this astonishing place, find a way to get to me. I can give you better directions, and give you the exact area. Keep in mind it's a little north of me and I'm in one of the southernmost regions of New Jersey. It's about midway through New Jersey...so if you live in Belleville it might take a bit longer to get there than it does for me. ^^;

<3 Hope you guys got a good feel for how beautiful the place is, but these pictures have no representation on how beautiful it is in real life. (It doesn't really help that I can't take photography for shit.)

Teenage.Stupidity [18/24]

2007-12-26T17:04:41Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [18/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG for overwhelming corniness.
POV: Frankie's
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Corny, corny, corny.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen // Chapter.Fifteen // Chapter.Sixteen // Chapter.Seventeen

--

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long ><
But how did your christmas' go?? I got a camera
So the next post for this will prolly be pictures of Grounds for Sculpture x3

--

Gerard picks me up on time, as I knew he would. Immediately, he senses something’s wrong. I’m about to lie and tell him it’s nothing when it all comes spilling out, tumbling away from me quicker than I would have thought it could. He had drove out of my driveway but parked in an abandoned parking lot, probably belonging to a medical practice. I don’t even realize, but I’m crying really quite hard.

When I’ve finished my lament, Gerard crushes me in a hug. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he moans, kissing my forehead and trailing kisses down to my lips. His hands knot in my hair and he kisses me so forcefully, as if trying to breathe life stolen away back into me. Just as I’m really going to kiss him back, he pulls away and holds my face between his hands.

“We’re skipping today,” he breathes in my face. “I don’t care.” I just nod at him, bemused as he turns the car off. He turns to me again and stares at me, hard, in the eyes. “Frankie. I’m going away to college next year, and. I’ll rent myself an apartment, so you can live with me, too. You’ll be old enough to work then? You can get a part time job and go to school while I go to school, too. Will you be okay with switching high schools so we can get as far away from your parents as possible?” He waits for my answer, and I nod. He smiles and kisses my fingers before moving on. “I’ll get a job soon, like maybe even apply tonight. And I’ll work so we have enough down payment to get an apartment. Mom and Dad promised me that they’ll help me pay my way through college, so I don’t have to worry about that.

“Frank, I’ve already been accepted into a college. I have all my high school credits; I’m just biding my time. I’m glad I did, though, or I wouldn’t have met you. But, do you want to start this soon? Like, I mean. Not tomorrow. But within the next six months?”

I just stare at him. The prospect of living with Gerard? Beyond my wildest fantasy. I suck in a large amount of breath, trying to clear my head. Trying to make sure I’m not dreaming, not imagining this wonderful opportunity. When Gerard is still in front of me with that same concerned expression, I realize that he really just said all that. “That would be fantastic,” I breathe.

He squeals a little, twisting so that he’s sitting cross legged in his seat. His knee bumps awkwardly against the steering wheel, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I guess it’ll take a little bit to gather up the money. Do you even need to have down payments on apartments?” He tilts his head to the side, wondering.

I’m not sure. But I remember what my mom said—I can’t get out of the house till I’m sixteen. “Gerard,” I say slowly, apologetically. “I really want to go live with you—really, I do—but we have to wait a year.” He frowns at me, wondering why. “I can’t get away from my parents legally ‘till I’m sixteen. We can wait a year, can’t we?”

Gerard nods, smiling broadly. “More time to save up! With this rate, we should have enough so that we can live pretty comfortably for a while…especially if we don’t blow the money on stupid things. I mean if I have a job, Mom and Dad will make me pay for my own gas, but that’s about it. And then when you move in, if you have a job, too…,” his voice fades off as we both imagine this fantastic life. Together.

I lean forward and kiss him sweetly. He kisses me back, twisting our fingers together so that we become a perfect, intricate design. “It’s perfect. I can’t wait.” I whisper the words against his lips and pull away slightly. His bright, bright green eyes are dancing with the life of the plan.

We spend the rest of the day in that parking lot. We don’t even bother to call in school and tell them we’re not showing up. We talk about everything, stealing kisses every now and then. We talk from our parents, to Mikey (who has been bothering Gerard about his sexuality), to the color of the sky, to the need to pee but the need to stay with one another. It seems like it’s only been a few moments, but the clock on his car tells us it’s seven and we kick start into motion.

“My mom’s gonna kill me,” I groan a bit. Gerard nods empathetically, probably knowing he’s going to get his butt whipped as well. He drops me off at my house and kisses me carefully on the lips. I can tell he doesn’t want to get caught. “Come get me tomorrow.”

He purrs, “but of course, my Frankie.” He drives off quickly and I head into the house with my head down, a bit frightened of what my parents are going to say.

As I enter, I realize they’re having dinner. I wander over, dropping my backpack along the way. I hope they don’t know I skipped. As I enter the dining room, I notice that there are only two chairs out. Both of them occupied.

“Hi,” I say as loudly as I can, but Dad refuses to acknowledge me. I stare at him, open mouthed. He’s really ignoring me. Mom waves at me, but I’m not focusing on her. Just staring incredulously at Dad.

Mom clears her throat. “You’re dinner is in the kitchen, honey.” I blink at her before glaring at him and stomping off towards the kitchen. I can’t believe….

I snatch the plate and scarf it down, wandering upstairs to do my homework and then fall asleep.

The next few months move at a snails crawl. Gerard stays true to his word. He gets a job at the local Borders bookstore, working as a clerk there. I often go to work with him, just wandering the store and reading a lot of books. More than I ever have in my life, I can say honestly.

The manager gets to know me well. When Gerard comes in she calls to him, “bring your puppy?” Gerard just nods and I poke my head out behind him. She waves at me and I wave back, wrapping my arms around Gerard’s waist and hugging him closer to me. When he stumbles back he laughs, but lowers his hand so he’s gripping me from behind.

Slowly but surely, his birthday crawls toward us. I’m not sure what to get him—what do nineteen year olds want?—so I settle on buying him a whole stack of brand new CD’s, and making him dinner. I clear it with his Mom. I ask her (politely!) to leave the house on his birthday so I can make him dinner. She agrees, hopefully only thinking I’m doing it for a friend and nothing more.

We have school on his birthday, which drags. He also has to work (I made sure that he didn’t take it off) so I order him to drop me off at his house before he goes to work. He grumbles but kisses me and hugs me goodbye, promising to be back in about four hours. That should be enough time to give him a fantastic dinner, no?

As soon as I come into the house (it’s been my second home, anyway, since my house is more of a prison now) his mom smiles. “Shall I leave now?”

I nod. She laughs and I hug her tightly. “I cleaned all the dishes…and everything you might need to use.” I thank her and she leaves, telling me Mikey is also going to a friends’ house and Gerard’s dad is working late. I grin thankfully at her as she leaves her own house for me.

Getting to work, I really do work for those four hours. I’m making salad, pasta, and cheesecake. I couldn’t think of anything to make, so I decided on my favorite. Yeah, yeah, horrible boyfriend, what ever.

Just as I’m finishing up dinner, I hear the door crack open. “If I come in, will my face be eaten?”

I laugh. “Yes, but in the good way.” I hear his chuckle come closer. He stops in the dining room, frozen in the threshold of the doorway. He examines the candles everywhere on the table and then finally the bowl of salad in the center.

Coughing nervously, I say, “sit down—the pasta will be done soon so you have eat your salad quickly.”

He sits down and we eat. I grab the pasta after he finishes his salad, and we eat in silence. He’s sitting across from me and every now and then he’ll catch my eye and smile broadly. He tells me it’s really good when I ask which calms my nerves. I don’t think its half bad but yet again, my taste buds could be totally fucked up.

When he finishes I go and grab the cheesecake. He laughs. “Cheesecake! My favorite.” That calms me down almost completely. I’m happy to report that my cheesecake is actually edible, and he closes his eyes as if it’s bliss. The dinner goes a lot better than my nightmares had offered up to me.

When we finish, he comes and hugs me tightly around the middle. “Thanks!” he exclaims happily.

I struggle against him, playfully. “Excuse me, but I have one more thing.” I pull away, grabbing the wrapped stalk I had set on one of the chairs in the room. Then I hand it to him and he rips open the package.

“Oh my God! Thank you!” He examines the six or seven CD’s I’ve bought him as if they’re gold. “I’ve been meaning to get these for a long time.” He places them on the table and hugs me, crushing me to his chest. I lean against him and settle myself on him, fitting perfectly to his form.

I lean up and peck him on the lips. “You’re welcome…,” I tell him. Before I know it I’m assaulting his mouth, kissing him roughly. He kisses me back, equally as violent. I tug at his hair, yanking him down.

But before we can go any further (boy, do I want to keep going), we hear the door open. We pull away quickly and look at each other before cracking smiles. “How did the birthday dinner go?” we hear his mom call out.

“Fantastic,” I call back and hug Gerard tightly.

TEH ICONZ

2007-12-24T01:23:10Z

I've made these over the past, eh, three weeks? x3

[1] [2] [3]

[4] [5] [6]
[7] [8] [9]
[10] [11] [12]
[13] [14]

Feel free to use, just give credit.

In the Darkness [1/1]

2007-12-13T22:17:01Z

Title: In the Darkness
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: Mikey/Gerard - WAYCEST [Gerard's name never mentioned]
Rating: Nestling somewhere between PG and PG-13
POV: Third, Mikey-centric
Summary: Mikey waits for him, each night, wanting to be the one to wrap protective arms around him. Choking black skies are enough to hide disasterous relationships.
Disclaimer: If I said this happened, I'd be telling a lie as big as if I said I knew the band personally.
Author Notes: Written because I had to; my mind wouldn't leave me alone. First Waycest. This is also my first posted fic on this comm, but I've posted on FrankxGerard before.
Word Count: 1439
Beta: I don't know if I'd call her my beta, but she is the person who told me to upload this fic: perfectionists. <3
Warnings: Incest, questionable relationships, teenage angst.

--

It’s times like this when Mikey would stand by his bed, fingers poised in the air, gripping to something only he could see. His hand would be placed just so, as if a body had once been beneath them, the pads of his fingers skimming down the flawless skin of someone’s arm, or back. They would be curled, his eyes slightly closed as he stood as still as he possibly could. Breathing slowly, his small chest rising as lightly as possible as the flimsy shirt barely touched milky skin lost to the sun.

The scent of cigarettes would linger in the room, bulbous and overwhelming with its intensity, yet oddly calming. Its stench, second hand smoke, was almost completely lost to him. He had grown so used to inhaling the sweet, burning taste. Feel it slither down the back of his throat and nestle on top of his lungs, clutching to them tightly. Almost making him want to reach into his pocket and pull his inhaler out, but never quite being that bad. It was always somewhat welcoming; it would remind him that he was in the room, or had been recently.

Thin hands with bones clearly visible would reach down and snag onto a piece of material. A pillow, a blanket, a shirt. And slowly, Mikey would hold the cloth to him and suck in the smell. The almost musky smell of body sweat shoved beneath deodorant, a trace of what could perhaps be cologne, and of course, smoke. A smile would always cross his lips as he peered down the edge of his nose, trying to keep the object in sight while clutching it close to him.

It was never meant to be, he knows. It was never meant to cross between the border of fantasy, and slowly edge into the world of realism. Where children died from vicious parents, where bedraggled and lost men lifted sordid eyes to the sky in one final plea to the overseeing being. In the darkness, hands could ghost across flesh and not be seen. In the darkness, mouths could come within close proximity and breathe against one another without fear of being caught. The only legacies of the night’s events would be memories, memories of eyes shining in the darkness. The whites of eyes causing the iris to look deeper, darker, the pupil a black hole of wrongdoings and pleasure.

With a sigh, Mikey sits down on the edge of his bed. In his small fingers he holds his shirt, a simple black one. It looks as if it had once been very nice, but now it’s splattered with paint and has obviously lost all sense of price. The sight of paint blobs smeared against the fabric, red, yellow, orange, fire against black midnight sky, is almost amusing to Mikey. He stares down at it and thinks, he wore this while he was painting. The paint looks fresh. It must be recent.

He’s out, that’s all Mikey really knows. He frowns and a small blush creeps into his face, part of his mind wanting to know why he cares.

He’s sixteen, his brother is nineteen. He shouldn’t even care about his brother. It’s illogical, naïve, even, for him to think that he’s thinking about him, too. Thinking as desperately as he is, waiting, holding things that belong to Mikey himself when Mikey is away. He slowly lets the spoiled shirt fall to the floor, in a position not unlike he had found it in, and lets his face turn towards the clock.

It’s just past midnight. He has school tomorrow, for goodness sake; he shouldn’t be up at this hour.

It takes him a moment. He stares at the door, willing him to stumble through the door in drunken glory and lather Mikey with the thing he so desperately craves. He tilts his head to the side, listening, begging for some noise that would symbolize that he is home. But, to his displeasure, no signs arise. He sits, listening to his own heart thud loudly in his chest. Listening to his breathing, coming erratically from his lips. Listens to his bones creaking, fingers twitching against his leg.

A groan of resignation escapes as he claws his way off the bed. He slowly opens the door of his room, exiting as quietly as possible. He stumbles up the steps as best as he can, disappointment bitter against his palate. When he’s on the first floor he trudges to his bedroom and enters with quiet feet, falling onto the bed. He’s fully clothed, shoes and socks still placed on his feet. His hair is ruffled, his glasses slipping down his nose, but he doesn’t care.

His pillow smells like memories, the scent wafting to his nose as he clings to it. He wishes it would suddenly morph into a human, would transform into skin he could trail kisses against. He curls into himself beneath the blankets, glasses still on despite the danger of rolling on top of them, and he closes his eyes against the despairing rain that wishes to fall from his clouds.

Hours pass, midnight sinking into cool dawn. He’s still awake, listening intently. It takes him by shock and surprise, yet not quite so, when he hears feet thrumming through the house. He knows it’s him, coming home from a night lost to drinking and partying.

Expecting the feet to travel down to the basement (and probably wonder why his ‘buddy’ isn’t down there waiting for him), Mikey sits up and hugs his knees to his chest. He’s planning on going down to at least check up on him, if that’s the very least, before it’s time for him to at least attempt sleep.

It comes as a shock when slick hands fumble with his doorknob noisily, and finally it wrenches open. He blinks at the figure standing in the doorway, almost a bit terrified that he had disrupted the obvious and ongoing pattern that had been in place for longer than three years.

He stands here, thick black hair hanging down his face in strands, eyes bright with something. His mouth is slightly open, and he’s breathing heavily. Mikey can’t smell any alcohol, but he blames that on distance. The two stare at each other for a moment, and it’s all Mikey can do not to either jump up and hug him, or run away from him in fear. The silence is heavy when his breathing calms, it weighing down on both of their hearts, their minds. Their bodies sag and he half limps across the room towards Mikey’s bed.

“Mikes,” he croaks, voice hoarse and gravelly. Still, Mikey can’t smell the alcohol; smell the almost needed confirmation that this was a confrontation brought on by intoxication. He lifts his head, trying to get a drift of the smell, but failing. He frowns and stares into his eyes, the jaded fragments.

After a moment, he responds to his question with a, “mhm?” of nonchalance. He bites his lip as he stumbles even closer. His hands are slightly outstretched, begging for solid matter to fall into his chest. Knock him over, blow the wind away from his lungs, what ever is needed most. He stares, both of them stare, lips dry with tongues flicking out to lick them every few seconds.

There’s no response to Mikey’s question, just lips, hands clawing, legs tangling. Hot breath into each others mouths while hands surf the boundaries of hair, twisting into the hanging locks. He flings Mikey’s glasses onto the bedside table and its okay, because midnight brushes have obscured all happenings. Even eyes are blotted out, nails digging into empty sockets treacherously as they beg for pain, beg for more. There is no trace of this happening besides sweat-soaked clothes, disgruntled breathing patterns and more abuse to an old bed.

Words are spoken and each syllable, each sound is a spike through Mikey’s heart. Each horrific word scalds his mind, scalds his face and burns him. Turns his white skin into rage, sadness, anguish. Grave eyes roll, searching for a chink of light but not finding one. He gasps for breath, an inhaler unable to save him, he knows. Five words, destroying everything he has ever hoped for.

I have a boyfriend, now.

Memories can only shine through darkness with a torch to help, can only fight against the despairing calamity of it with a small fragment of hope. Mirrors reflect only with light, color only swirls with the slight touch of the sun.

Shards cannot be picked up in the dark. Small, fragmented pieces lost in the vortex of black.

Why My Chemical Romance and Walt Disney World Don't Mix

2007-12-06T19:59:38Z

Title: Why My Chemical Romance and Walt Disney World Don't Mix
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FrankxGerard, a little bit of BobxRay (it's subtle)
Rating: PG-15 because...it's just...yeah. Read.
POV: Third person, centric on Gerard and Frank
Summary: The boys decide that they should cut the dark, death-ridden trips and go to a place where allegedly, "all of their dreams will come true."
Disclaimer: Dayum, dude. I just cannot imagine My Chemcial Romance standing in Fantasy World.
Author Notes: I wrote this while I myself was in Disney. It's just supposed to be funny, supposed to make you snort with laughter.
Warnings: Degrading the Disney name, poking fun at many favorite characters, boy love, and loud noises.

--

Mikey’s fingers brushed against the felt on the hat, before they curled around the material and lifted it up. Swiftly, he placed the hat on his head and snapped the rubber band beneath his chin, spreading his fingers wide while letting his eyes grow. “Lookie, everyone!” he shrieked as loudly as he could. Many heads in the store turned, but the four he was aiming to look did so. “I’m fuckin’ Mickey Mouse!”

A father clapped his hands over his toddler’s ears just in time, and he glared so hatefully at Mikey, Gerard thought it was a wonder that Mikey did not burn from the sheer hate. Frank’s face lit up and before Gerard knew what was happening, the short man had left his side. He had galloped towards Mikey and lifted up a similar hat, but instead of air between the famous ears, a red white-polka-dot bow sat contentedly. He placed it on his head and screamed, “if you’re Mickey Mouse, I’ll be your Minnie Mouse!”

Bob, who was leaning against a display of stickers featuring the Seven Dwarves, smirked and held the camera up higher. “That’s it, boys,” he hollered. “Show the camera what you’re made of.”

Mikey and Frank, both being attention whores, suddenly gripped one another as tightly as they could. Frank’s knee wedged its way between Mikey’s thin legs, hands gripping his shoulders tightly. Mikey leant down and placed his lips at the hollow of Frank’s throat, as if about to nip him there. Bob came closer, getting a better angle of the shot while laughing. “It’s Mouse-House porn!”

Children began to get ushered away from the store, venomous parents glaring at the five men. One looked at Gerard, as if to protest the fact that the two were not only portraying pornography, but gay pornography. But with one look into Gerard’s thick green eyes, he lowered his own and walked furiously from the store. The cashiers didn’t mind—teenagers themselves, they were giggling at the display.

Frank suddenly snapped off his hat and ran to the other side of the room. He barreled into a very disturbed-looking Ray. Ray had an expression on his face that was a cross between grim discomfort and utter revolution. The suffocating pink and killing cute were getting to him, Gerard concluded. But Frank passed him without even apologizing, screaming something about Jack Skellington.

Within moments, Frank had located the display he was looking for. He gripped the life size stuffed animal of Jack and pressed his lips against the stitched maw that was Jack’s. “I love you, Jackey! Dump Sally for me.” As Frank’s eyes wandered around the display and Bob came closer, Frank dropped the stuffed animal and ripped open a package. He turned away from the camera and slipped the gloves on. Once they were fastened onto his hands, he turned around and waved his four-fingers into the camera lens. The gloves were replicas of Jack’s hands.

With his broken movement of fingers, Frank examined the many hoodies, shirts, and knick-knacks that were advertising his favorite movie. He ripped the gloves off and dropped them onto the floor without caring. He merely picked up the fallen stuffed animal, hugged it, and pretended to dance with it for the camera. After his flaunting was complete, he hung the stuffed animal back up and moved on to another Disney movie to terrorize.

Ray gravitated to the only sane person in the room, Gerard. Mikey was skipping over to the Tinkerbell rack, eyeing a tutu that Gerard just knew he would have to try on. Sighing inwardly, he rolled his eyes as his prediction came true. Mikey snapped it around his waist, it unsurprisingly fitting well, and danced over on his tip toes to compete with Frank for Bob’s (and the camera’s) attention.

“Erm, maybe we shouldn’t have brought those two to Disney?” Ray asked after a moment of watching Frank and Mikey put on their own ballet. Frank had donned a Pocahontas skirt. Bob was eating the two up, face alight with laughter as the camera rolled. This section of their vacation would make it into the video diary, Gerard knew for sure.

Shrugging, Gerard turned around and tilted his head at the stuffed animal of Stitch in front of him. He picked it up, toying with it, before putting it down. “Eh. They’ll calm down. Hopefully….”

His voice trailed off just as Frank and Mikey started a rousing chorus of “Won’t Say I’m in Love,” probably initiated by the Pegasus stuffed animal that was clutched in Mikey’s hand. Mikey was moving it around with his arm, as if the horse was flying, as it did in the movie.

“No chance,” Frank yelled, his voice terribly off note.

“No way!” Mikey shouted back, making Pegasus have a seizure of flying movements.

Together, one voice too high, the other hiccupping and belching every few words, “I won’t say I’m in love!” One of them threw a “fucking” into the lyric, but the voice was distorted and undistinguishable.

Gerard shook his head. “Or, maybe they’ll embarrass the shit out of us. Either way.” He shrugged and Ray laughed, throwing his arm around his friend in sympathy. The two moved towards their friends, because even though they had to be the most embarrassing people in the world, they were still theirs.

It took a bit to get the three out of the store (much whining of, “we’re having too much fun!” and screams that Gerard and Ray just could not see the beauty in Disney were involved), but they finally traveled towards the exit. While on the way, they had a heated discussion of whether Thumper and Bambi were really secretly doing each other, a conversation that made Ray twitch. (He would never tell anyone, but he secretly loved Thumper more than any other Disney character and hated seeing the character put to such shame as to have sex with his best friend. Also, the fact that they were destroying a very innocent movie was a little dismaying to Ray.)

They emptied out into the teeming and pulsing mob of Fantasyland. As loudly as he could, Mikey pointed to the Dumbo ride and screamed, “I want to ride the flying elephants!”

Without a further word he dashed off to get in line for the ride.

Bob turned to Ray and snatched his hand. “You and me. Are riding the ‘It’s a Small World’ ride so we can sing the theme as obnoxiously as we can. Okay?” Ray did not even get a chance to respond before he was whisked away towards the side street to the ride with the singing dolls, different nations, and slow boats.

Frank turned to Gerard and grinned maliciously. “I have a surprise ride for you.”

Gerard’s eyes went wide as he asked, tentatively, “What?”

But without answering Gerard’s question, Frank skipped away, leaving Gerard with burning curiosity. Gerard followed, grumbling a bit under his breath but running quickly to catch up with his friend. When Frank stopped in front of one of the rides, Gerard’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“…you’re joking.”

“No. I’m serious.”

The ride that Frank had dragged Gerard to was none other than the Peter Pan ride. Gerard groaned, burying his head into his hands. Memories of that disastrous play where he was Peter Pan flitted through his mind and he turned away, unconsciously, from the ride. “I am not riding that damn ride.”

He protested Gerard’s statement. “Aw! Come on, don’t you want to ride a flying boat? Come on. You must want to ride one. Who doesn’t want to ride a flying boat!?”

Gerard looked at his friend through gaps in his fingers and stared. “…Peter Pan,” he said, faintly, before groaning again. He turned his head and examined the crocodile eating the clock, the station for those with Fast Passes. The line was incredibly short—if they were to get on now, they’d probably ride within five minutes.

Just as he was about to turn away and offer to go meet Ariel, Frankie gave him the puppy dog eyes. “Please, Gerard?”

Opening his mouth to protest, Gerard stared into those large, hazel eyes, and his will dissolved. “Oh, alright,” he snapped. Frank squealed and hugged Gerard tightly, already dragging him off towards the entrance of the ride.

As Gerard had predicted, they immediately hopped onto the flying boat. When the handle bar moved down over their laps, Frank yelled as loudly as he could, “Mommy! This ride is going to scare me, isn’t it!?”

Even Gerard knew that this ride was one of the least scary rides in all of Disney, besides, perhaps, the It’s a Small World ride. (Although in Gerard’s personal opinion, those dolls were going to take over the world with their abhorrent yet catchy song, one mind at a time.) As the boat rose on the tracks and Peter came and took the children away, they passed the Indians and watched Captain Cook try to shove Wendy off the boat.

The ride ended and Frank crawled out. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Fucking Peter Pan,” Gerard merely muttered under his breath.

Frank and Gerard spent the rest of the day together, running into the others every now and then. Mikey had teamed up with Bob and Ray after his need to ride the Dumbo ride, and was often with them (unless another ride caught his eye, such as the small trains).

They had agreed previously to meet in the front of Cinderella’s Castle, around the time of the parade. They would watch the parade and then travel to the hotel the Dolphin to take the boat to Epcot. They would have dinner in one of the countries (all five had already butted heads, but not one had won yet), watch the fireworks and end the day.

For this reason they were not worried what the other was doing. While the three dashed off towards Frontierland to try and take part in the parade there (“Woody’s going to be there, along with Jessie. I must go meet them.”), and also to ride Splash Mountain. Frank and Gerard decided to meander down to Tomorrowland, where the space-related rides were held.

They rode one of the fastest roller coasters on Disney property, Space Mountain. They also watched “Stitches Great Escape,” and swore together that Stitch’s breath was the foulest thing ever. Of course, Frank managed to convince Gerard to ride the Buzz Light-year ride, much to Gerard’s dismay.

The ride consisted of shooting aliens and spinning your car around and around. Frank took advantage of the opportunity to make himself dizzier than he ever could have gotten on his own. By the end of the ride both of them exited with no more than one hundred points to their name, as well as heads that felt as if they were about to spin right off their necks.

“Let’s go ride Splash Mountain,” Frank slurred, his words joining through his headache. Gerard didn’t disapprove the idea. He had heard of Splash Mountain and decided it would be a fun ride. They had about two hours before the parade would start, and they had already hit two of the themes in Magic Kingdom. Why not, he finally concluded.

After a few minutes of standing in line and nervous pointing towards the many signs saying “you will get wet,” they got into one of the logs. They watched the carefully-put together story unfold in front of them.

One of the robots was within arms length of Frank, so of course, Frank being Frank, he leaned out to grab onto it. His fingers curled around the robot’s fishing rod. Almost immediately after his fingers brushed against the robot, the music suddenly died away. A low monotonous voice filled the loud speakers, “We are sorry, Splash Mountain has broken down. Wait a moment, please.”

He wailed, “I broke the ride! Gerard, they’re gonna come and arrest me and—”

“You didn’t break the ride,” Gerard hushed the seriously nervous Frank. He placed his arm around the man and hugged him tightly. The ride came back and Frank sighed in relief, glad that it honestly wasn’t him who had shut down the ride momentarily.

At one point, the fox was standing on the bear’s ass, and the bear was moving in and out of a thicket of bushes. Frank leaned towards Gerard and muttered, “that looks like they’re fucking each other…,” in a low voice.

Gerard choked.

They ended the ride soaked to the core, having been sitting in the front. Despite being cold, Frank sang along when the chickens chirped to “Zip-a-di-do-dah” in a very nasal voice.

Once off, they spent the rest of their time mainly sight-seeing. They found their way back to Cinderella’s castle and saw Bob, Ray, and Mikey already waiting for them. Mikey was hanging off the side of the railing, Bob standing with his hands in his pockets awkwardly, and Ray perched on the railing coolly. Frank plopped himself down on the cobble street and begged Gerard to go get him cotton candy.

He gave in after much begging and went to go find it. After a bit of searching, he found the vendor. The parade had started so the crowd was thick around the street. He saw Aladdin rolling down the street towards them. He clutched the bag tightly and returned to where his friends were hiding, handing the bag wordlessly to Frank. He squealed and ripped the bag open, hand diving in to grab a handful before shoving it in his mouth.

The parade passed by languorously, Frank humming his part to “Welcome to the Black Parade,” the sound contrasting with the lyrics to the rather happy song that was being played. The lyrics mainly went, “if you believe in magic, all of your dreams will come true,” randomly punctuated with the words of one of the many Disney characters who had their dream come true.

When the parade was over, they quickly ushered out and caught the bus to the Dolphin just as it was leaving. They stood together, surrounded by young children, before getting off as quickly as they could at the hotel.

It took a moment for the boat to arrive, in which case the boys amused one another with stories of how their day went. Mikey spoke of how wonderful it was to ride an elephant. Bob and Ray snorted with laughter at how the Pirates of the Caribbean ride looked a bit too real, and one of the robots seemed to be broken. Frank told them of his amazing thought that Splash Mountain was promoting homosexuals, which caused the three to roll with laughter.

The boat came and they quickly claimed the back. Mikey sprawled on the ground while Frankie took an edge, trying to dip his fingers into the water as he did so. “I want to catch a fishie and name him Nemo!” he exclaimed when Gerard gave him a perplexed look. Mikey began to sing “twinkle, twinkle, little star,” moving on to other nursery rhymes after he had sung that song over and over.

“Where are we gonna eat?” Bob asked, placing the camera down on the seat to stand up and examine the water. He looked out at the hotel they had just passed, the Boardwalk and watched the twinkling lights. It took a few moments but Epcot came into view after a moment.

“I vote Japan,” Gerard said.

“No, France!” Frank shot back from the corner of the boat.

“Mesopotamia!” Mikey exploded. Everyone stared before he huffed and said “fine, Australia.”

Ray shrugged and mumbled “what ever, I don’t care.”

Bob offered his opinion weakly. “I’d like to eat in Germany.”

“Hey. Why don’t we get something to eat from all those places? Nothing big. Just like something to eat while walking. France we can get a crepe, Japan we can get sushi, Australia we can get what ever they’re offering, Germany, a hot dog or something.”

They agreed on the plan just as the boat pulled into the Epcot dock. Judging by the countries they wanted to visit and the obscure map, they decided to turn right, where France was the first top. Frank skipped across the bridge and was already in line by the time the others arrived. They decided to share two crepes, which they ate while walking to Germany, exclaiming how good it was.

When they got to Germany, they ate the schnitzel and chugged a can of beer (Gerard passed over the alcohol, however) between them. They snatched food from Japan, as well as from Australia, when suddenly a man over the loud speaker informed them that the firework show would begin in ten minutes.

They quickly claimed a bench together and sat down. Mikey found his way onto Bob’s lap, where he sat with his legs crossed. He batted his eyes at Bob, who rolled his eyes and stared out at the lake. Ray sat on the ground, legs pulled towards his chest and his head tilted back against the bench. Frank used the extra space to curl his legs out to the side of him, resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder.

Gerard, a reflex, reached out and wrapped his arm around Frank. Frank blinked for a moment before smiling, a small blush creeping in his cheeks. Gerard just smiled back as Frank snuggled sweetly into Gerard’s arm.

The firework show began and their attention was immediately captivated by the bright colors forming in the sky. If there was ever a shortage of fireworks, Gerard would know why—Disney stole them all.

It truly was very pretty. The small, spinning glove in the middle of the lake added to it, as did the lilting music. He felt Frank’s body heat thrum though his own body and shivered for entirely different reasons than cold. Frank felt the tremor and looked up, confused and even a bit worried, if Gerard was reading the messages in his eyes correctly. Frank scooted up a bit, his face closer to Gerard’s face, and his mouth went dry.

Memories of the many nights the two had kissed flooded into Gerard’s mind. They had all been on stage, never for themselves…but, even within the kisses, he could sense the desperation beneath each movement. Each brush was more than that—it wanted more, begged for more, but both were just too afraid to give in to the temptation. His arm curled unknowingly around Frank.

He looked up. Gerard felt his breath roll across his neck, so his eyes wandered down to look into Frank’s eyes. They held gazes for a moment before they moved closer. Just a bit closer, nothing to exclaim and squeal over. But it was enough that they shut their eyes, moving closer and closer, lips parting for the kiss.

As their lips touched, the loud bang of an extremely explosive set of fireworks set them off. Frank yelped, slipping off the bench and onto the street. Gerard jumped, bumping his head on a low-lying tree. Ray stared at the fallen form of Frank before letting out a bark of laughter. Mikey grinned and pointed to Frank. “Wow, Frank. You really are gracious.”

Bob let out an exclamation of disappointment as he pouted. “Dammit! I didn’t get that on camera. That would have been amazing. You just randomly falling off the bench.”

As Frank lay on the street, his eyes caught Gerard’s. It took a moment, but his lips twisted into a small smile as the last of the fireworks crackled above. Gerard returned the smile, reaching out a hand to pull Frank back up, an invitation for him to curl up next to him and maybe, later, try again.

Teenage.Stupidity [17/24]

2007-12-06T12:59:55Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [17/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-15 for language and stuff you really don't want to talk to your parents about
POV: Frankie's again
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Language, annoying parents~
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen // Chapter.Fifteen // Chapter.Sixteen

--

Author's Notes: So I'm home sick again (I was home yesterday as well), and I figured I'd update this.
Letting you all know~ I'm writing another series that's currently on it's fourth chapter I think. >3
<33

--

Gerard had offered me to come to his house, but I declined. After that episode, all I really want to do is sit on the couch, munch on candy, and watch horror movies in the safety of my own home. Gerard understands, drives me home, and kisses me goodnight. The kiss still knocks me out, and for a moment I think about making him turn back so I can spend the rest of the night with him. But, I really do want to go to sleep, or just relax, so I crawl out of the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Can we hang out this weekend? I love you,” I ask and say as I stick my head through his window. He lets a smile play his features before he nods at me.

“Of course we’re going to hang out this weekend. And I love you, too, more than anything in the world.” I nearly die and squeal at the same time—he actually just said that. A little strangled noise comes out of my chest as I dive into the car and peck him on the lips.

And with that, I dash up my driveway and stand by the door. I wave, he waves back, but his face is gone through the gloom of night. I can hardly see his car drive away. When I think he’s passed, I open the door and enter my own house, candy bag clutched tightly in my fingers. I begin to head towards the couch, already running through a list of TV stations to tune into for good horror flicks.

But when I enter the room, Dad’s sitting on the couch with the lights on. I drop my candy bag. Surprised, and already frightened. Dad never sits in the room without the TV on. Like, seriously. I gulp and raise a hand, waving to him weakly. “Hey, Dad.” My hands find their way to my hat and I tug it off, remembering how this morning he complained that it was a bad costume for me to wear.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks up at me. I drop my hat on my candy bag and edge closer to him. What did mom say hew anted to talk about? Something like a “Becoming-a-man” speech. But he would have kept the TV on for that, I know that. The quiet is eerie.

Taking a deep breath, he tilts his head slightly and says, “I saw you this morning.”

My blood runs cold. It doesn’t take a genius to understand in a snap what he meant. I stare at him, my mouth probably flapping open and closed like a fish. He just holds my gaze steadily, shifting slightly so he’s sitting in a more upright position.

“More specifically, I saw you making out with that boy,” he spits the word out, as if it’s venomous, poisonous. As if it scalds his tongue as it passes through his mouth. “The one who’s been picking you up and dropping you off every day, not to mention whisking you away to do God-knows-what. Frank, I thought I raised you better.”

My voice is hoarse as I whisper, “we never do anything but kiss.” The words scratch at my throat, but the fact that I’m strong enough to think of our relationship in a present-tense makes me feel more confident in myself. He raises an eyebrow at me, as if not believing the statement.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant, Frank. I meant, I thought I raised you to like girls.”

I know what the proud part of me wants to say, but the cowardly part of me fights that it would just make matters worse. It chokes out, half strangled, from my mouth. “You didn’t raise me into liking guys…I was born this way.”

He explodes. Just fucking explodes. “You do not like men!” he roars at me, hopping up off the couch to run towards me and jab me, hard, in the chest. “You’re not gay, you’re not queer!”

“Yes I am!” I scream back in his face. “Dammit, Dad, it’s so damn obvious but you’re just so oblivious! I’ve known since I was really young, you asshole. Don’t try and get into my head and tell me what gender I like and don’t like—I think I know myself! You’re not me, and I’m not you. So stop trying—”

“I may not be you, but I am your father,” he snarls at me, coming so close his nose rubs against my nose. “I still have authority over you. What you eat, what you wear, who you date.”

It takes effort, but I finally gather the courage to attempt to yank out of his grasp. “Dad? I’m fifteen. In one year, I’ll be old enough to legally get emancipation from you and Mom. I’ll do it, too, if you’re not careful.” I eye him. “Lose your only son.”

He glares at me, violently, before he says, coldly, “I’ve already lost my son.”

I want to throw up. I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I stare at him, opened mouthed for a few more moments before I turn heel and run up the steps. I forgot my hat, my candy bag, pretty much everything. I storm into my room, slam the door, and collapse on top of my bed.

My hand reaches over to my phone to call up Gerard, to tell him what happened. But my heart stops me. I don’t want to bother Gerard with this. I mean, it’s not exactly trivial, but Gerard has enough on his plate. I roll over, groan, and shut my eyes as tight as I can. Block out everything.

I wake up the next morning, gasping awake as my alarm clock shrieked at me. For a moment, in my half awake daze, I think the screams are my father. But of course they’re not. I slap my alarm clock, sit up and yawn. My eyes flick to my cell phone and I notice I have a message.

My fingers cracking, I reach out and grab it. It’s from Gerard, as I suspected. “Will pick u up b4 skool. Hope u had fun!! Ily.” I let a smile flit across my face before it falls, but only a bit. I sigh and stand up, heading towards my closet to ransack it for clothes. I’ve fallen asleep in my costume. It’s awkward and stiff, so I peel it off as soon as I can.

So I’m in my boxers, kneeling on the ground in my closet, looking for clothes. Not the best position to have your mom find you in, especially if you have a post-dream boner. Which I realize I have just a little too late.

She stares at me for a moment, and I stare at her, before she sits down heavily in my desk chair. “I heard the fight last night, Frank.”

Finding the pair of pants I was looking for—black sweats—I tug them out of my closet, grabbing the first clean shirt I see (in this case, it’s a band tee). I tug on the sweats and slip into the shirt, avoiding talking to my mom. I reach over to the dresser and slip my lip ring in without even having to look in the mirror.

I turn after there’s nothing else to occupy me. It’s five forty five in the morning. If mom got up this early, she really wanted to talk to me. “I figured you would have,” I tell her in what I hope is a nonchalant voice.

She frowns, her light brown hair falling almost artfully in her face. “I’m really sorry, Frank,” she whispers, and her face crumples.

Immediately, I take a step towards her. “Whoa, Mom! Why are you sorry?” I’m bewildered as I watch a tear track down her cheek. She didn’t do anything but be a mom, which isn’t something to apologize about (or at least not in this situation).

“For not standing up for you,” she sniffs. She looks at me, her large, chocolate eyes sparkling. “I’ve known for so long…I should have told your father my suspicions, but always kept it to myself. I knew he’d take it horribly…he was always so homophobic. His uncle, or something, was gay and ruined the family. But…he shouldn’t have done what he did to you. It was cruel.”

My face twitches, caught between crying at how nice she’s being to laughing at the thought of my dad being homophobic. More like homo-homicidal….

“It’s not your fault, though. He was gonna do that no matter what.” I shrug and sit down on the floor, taking my phone in my hand and playing with it. “It’s not really as if I wasn’t expecting that type of reaction.” I want to ask her how she knew, but don’t. I can guess—moms always know everything about their kids. I guess that joke is really true.

She sniffs again. “I’ll convince him to keep letting you see that boy, Gerard…but I don’t think I’ll be able to do more than that.” She looks pained, as if the realization is killing her. “He’s hell bent on getting you out of the house as soon as possible…he told me you really only have a year here, right? On your sixteenth birthday, he’s screaming that he’s going to kick you out.”

I wince. “I figured as much,” I mutter under my breath before I look up. I smile crookedly. “It’s okay, though. I’ll go live with Gerard.”

She laughs, swatting me, but at least she’s happy. “I’m going to go back to bed. You get up way too early for me. I just wanted to let you know…I do support you…and I love you, no matter what, Frank.”

I hug her tightly. “Love you too, Mom…thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Just Watch Me.

2007-12-06T01:34:42Z

I was basically just crying really hard.

For those who are kinda close to me, you've known I've been dying to play the drums since a little before September.
I remember moaning to my Grandma how badly I wanted to play back in July.
I love the drums. They're amazing. They make up the base to every song. If you didn't have drums in a rock song, it'd be dead.

I'm getting //just enough// money for Christmas that I can probably rent one, or buy one. (I'm hoping Amazon keeps their deal up, because I don't know of any places around here that rent drums and by god I know it'll be like $500.)
So of course I'm cautiously asking my parents if they'll kill me if I play the drums.

I went in to ask my Dad, and I was like, "I know I'm not allowed to make that much noise. But honestly, an hour a day? Grandma will live. I'll do it as soon as I get home from school if I have to, and I'll close my door and somehow stop noise from filtering through too badly.
And he fucking laughed in my face. "You won't play for an hour a day; you'll give up after a week."

That...broke my heart.
I've been talking to a friend about it, and I have some inkling of how bad it's going to be.
I know I won't truly know until it's too late.
I know I'm going to break drumsticks, probably break my wrist.
I know I'm going to wind up throwing drumsticks out the window.
I know I'm going to just break down sometimes because I can't get the limb separation yet.
And I'm also positive there's going to be other things that are going to kill me on the inside. Other things that make it almost impossible to function in school the next day.

But, I also know that I've wanted to play drums for way too long of a time.
I'm not talking about four months;
I'm talking about more than four years.
I've always tapped my foot, always banged my hands against things in time to drums.
I just never told anyone about it. I was kind of embarrassed about it, since I've have bad experiences with doing stuff like this.

"I know you, Darci, and you're opposed to anything that's hard work."
That. Hurt. So. Badly.

In the past, I had piano lessons.
I had to give those up because I was afraid of coming up stairs - this was in third grade and I had this total phobia of the stairs. Don't ask me why but I could not handle going up alone.

In the past, I had guitar lessons.
I had to give up those because I broke my guitar and my mom didn't pay the bill again.
I also had a really embarrassing experience involving me going around my town playing for music - yeah, I was a fucktard. Ranks on the third most embarrassing thing I've ever done in my life.
I was also in 3rd grade; what the hell did I know about commitments?

In the past, we had a dog.
It was my mom and I's project, more my mom's. And we slowly lost interest in the poor dog, until we had to give her away.
I was in 3rd. Fucking. Grade.

I get where he's coming from. I'm lazy. I don't like working for things I don't want to work for.
But his assumption was unfair.

I worked my ass off to get into honors English this year. And I work my ass off each day in English to keep my grade up. I fight with myself constantly, not wanting to do things but knowing that if I want to make it into the AP Jr. English, I'm going to have to keep working.
And I will reach that.

I work my ass off each day to shit out each crappy piece of writing I come out with. Even in the midst of writers block I still write. I force myself to. Writing is my passion and I can't even bare to think of myself as a human if I don't write. I want to write a novel and am, I'm plotting it out as we speak. I just want to have someone email me when I'm published and say, "your novel touched me."
And I will reach that.

I worked my ass off while I was baby sitting these two little monsters. Once they realized I was kind and not about to slap them in the face, they were terrible. They screamed, they jumped on me, they attacked me. No matter what I did, they were terrible. But, after a lot of time of working as hard as I could, I finally got them to calm down. I gripped them both and stared them in the eye and said, "if you're not good to me, I'm going to scream. And you won't like me when I'm angry." After that, they were nice and sweet and we had a lot of fun together.
I did reach my goal.

I worked my ass off to get into public school. It took me two years to finally convince my mom, but I persisted. I begged every day, I fought with her. I took the beatings at school, I took the taunts. I took my old principal picking on me each day for leaving. I went through my mom screaming at me constantly for not being true to God. But I begged for two years, until I finally put my foot down and told her if she didn't go enroll me, I'd do it myself if I had to. Or I'd get a parent to go with me and be my authoritative figure.
I did reach my goal.

On dA, I wanted to become famous. I remember staring at the people with more than 5k pageviews and thinking, "damn, they're amazing." And, so, I worked hard. I drew the best I could, I wrote the best I could. And, now, I wouldn't call me famous, but I'm a lot more popular than I was when I first joined.
I did, in a sense, reach my goal.

I worked my ass off to get as "good" at writing as I am today. After I realized how natural it came to me in sixth grade, I wrote every day. I taught myself new ways to write. I would play 'the metaphor game,' where I'd think about everyday things and come up with new metaphors for them that were very unique. I read more than my entire sixth/seventh/eighth grade class put together. And slowly, after so much training, I'm actually one of the top writers in my grade.
I did reach my goal.

I have this gut feeling that I'm going to love drumming.
Kind of like that gut feeling I had in sixth grade when everyone was telling me "oh, it's just a phase" about how much I loved to write.
Kind of like that gut feeling I had when I wanted to come to public school, but everyone told me I was just being stupid.
I just know I'm going to be able to be good at drumming after the hard part.
It's a feeling.
I simply cannot say anything other than, "I'm not going to give up."

Yeah, I'm afraid I'm going to.
Past experiences point me in the direction that I'm going to.
But six years have elapsed since that time period; I've matured a whole fuck of a lot.
And...I really think I'm going to be good at it.

So, fuck you, Dad.
I'm proving you wrong, even if it's the last thing I do.
Just watch me.

Teenage.Stupidity [16/24]

2007-11-29T23:41:39Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [16/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-15 for language
POV: Frankie's
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: MAKING OUT NESS AND uh. Yeah.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen // Chapter.Fifteen

--

Author's Notes: NEW ICON
<3
I have a whole list of new icons that are being used for specific reasonss
but this one is for my series'
You'll see more latar <3

--

We pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. It’s not a Denny’s, as I had feared. (I’m trusting of Gerard, but he likes to play jokes sometimes. He might have pulled into a parking lot of a Denny’s just to see my reaction. Which would have been me screaming bloody hell over and over.)

It’s a very fancy local restaurant. I gape at him—we’re both in costumes. I wonder if they’ll even let us in. He laughs and climbs out of the car, so I follow him. He reaches across the car and holds my hand, and we walk into the restaurant hand in hand.

Right before the door, it says: “dress code required.” Then, below it, stuck on with sticky tape, is, “Halloween—must wear costume!” I nod, understanding, and we enter with a flourish. The chimes ring at us overhead and a hostess comes and seats us immediately.

The room is dim, but not in an eerie way. It’s nice. She leads us to a private booth, secluded and in a corner. No one will hear us (or see us), we’re so far back. We sit down across from each other and smile at her. She gets our drink orders and then skips off to the kitchen.

I reach out across the table and snatch his hands in mine. “Can I pay, please?” I beg him. We had this discussion in the car. He refused to let me pay, but I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he was the guy and I was the girl in this relationship. I brought this up in the car and he started to laugh. He said that, technically, he was the guy in the relationship, because he was older. I told him he was chicken shit, which just made him laugh even harder. He claimed that he kissed me first but I said I kissed him first, so we settled that we kissed each other at the same time. He had finally blew out a large amount of breath and said, “we’ll switch roles. Just, for tonight, can I please be the guy and you play the lovely housewife?” So, I figured, I’d listen to him. I just want to pay the damn bill.

He shakes his head and slaps my wrist lightly. The waitress comes back with our drinks and asks us if we’ve picked out our meal yet. We’ve decided on what to have already. It’s a restaurant where you share your meal with others, so we both decided on these finger-chicken type things. She nods and smiles at us, turning around back to the kitchen to place the order.

We banter while waiting for our food. Over anything and everything. Our first argument is a continuation of the one in the car—who’s the girl, and who’s the guy. Unsurprisingly, we’re both competing for the girl (yes, I want to be the girl, it’s just I want to be able to pay for him!).

“I think I’m more the girl because I have long hair!” Gerard protests, letting go of my hands to finger his hair. When he lowers his hands we intertwine them together again. He looks out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to see his hair.

I snort. “Well, I think I’m more the girl because I’m smaller. And younger.” I bat my eyelashes at him and say in a high pitched tone, “and plus, I’m so much prettier.”

“I thought you wanted to be the guy!” he exclaims. He lets go of my hands again and flings a pack of butter at me. “Liar, liar, you gotta keep your role consistent. If we’re gonna live together, you have to choose—fat man on the couch or lady in the hair rollers doing the laundry?”

Wrinkling my nose, I shout “eew!” at the top of my lungs. Gerard lunges across the table and places his hand over my mouth, horrified but amused at my outburst. I lick his hand and he recoils, lifting it and watching as saliva drips off his hand.

“Okay, that’s grosser than the mental image,” I inform him. He glares at me playfully and rubs his hand against my shirt. I lurch away, but I’m too late—he’s covered his slick-with-my-saliva hand all over my shirt. I squeal at him and am about to swat him, but our plate of food has just come.

We eat in silence, commenting every once in a while on the food. It’s actually pretty good. I dunno what it is, but it’s tasty. It seems like really just too soon, we’re done. Gerard insists that we get a piece of cake to share, so we do—double chocolate, of course. After that, he pays the bill (he won’t let me see how much it was, damn), and we head out.

“I hope you brought your pillow case?”

I shake my head in a negative answer.

He grins and reaches into the back seat, pulling out two. “I knew you wouldn’t bring one.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I take the pillow case and hold it in my hands. It smells like Gerard. If he lets me keep the case, I’ll get high off of the fumes. I know that much. He starts the car up and we drive out of the parking lot, towards his house so we can trick-or-treat in his development. His idea, not mine.

He parks his car in his driveway and we both clamber out. The street is just beginning to get dim—I’d guess it’s about six o’clock—and he turns to me, a question forming on his face. “Wanna trick-or-treat at my house or…?” He shrugs, as if embarrassed. “It’s been a while since I’ve really trick-or-treated.”

“Let’s go to your house first.” He nods and we both head up his walkway. He rings his own doorbell, seeming to notice the oddity in it. A lady answers her face kind but warn out. She cracks a smile when she sees Gerard and I.

“So this is the mysterious and obscure Frank,” she coos. She sticks her hand out to shake my hand. “Gerard’s told us about you. You seem to be his new best friend. He’s even going trick-or-treating! Well, here you guys go.” She gives us two big handfuls of candy, her red lipstick smile growing. “Be careful and call if you get in trouble.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Alright, Mom,” he mumbles. She waves and closes the door. We turn around and head down the street, aiming to hit the house next door. I turn to him.

“She seems really nice.”

He looks at me oddly for a moment before shrugging. “I guess she is nice, but I mean, she’s my mom. How nice can I think my own mom is?” He puts his arm around my shoulder and we hit the neighboring house. He lets go of me before the neighbors answer. I understand why—neither of us has really come out to our parents, so it’s not like I’m offended.

The rest of the night pretty much goes like this—Gerard and I hitting houses, getting lots and lots of candy. As we wander down his development, he stops letting go of me and is more open about the fact that we’re together. He seems to really enjoy the intimacy when he can. It makes me smile.

One of the houses that we hit actually are gay themselves. Female, but still. They smile and offer us more candy than they would have normally. We thank them generously and I say over my shoulder, “Gay pride!”

We meander down the street peacefully, until we run into a bunch of kids. I’m not even sure why they’re out. They look like they’re older than me, but younger than Gerard. Even from a distance, we can see their silhouette and hear their booming voices. Or, to be more specific, we hear their sneering remarks about every stereotype in the high school system.

They draw closer, and one of them shrieks at us, “are those a couple of faggots ahead of us!?”

Beside me, I feel Gerard stiffen. I lean in closer to him and murmur under my breath to him. “Gerard, it’s okay. They’re just homophobes—we can avoid them. Don’t worry about it.”

But they keep coming closer—sort of a un-homophobic tendency—and one of them walks up to Gerard. “So I see you really are gay, aren’t you?”

I’m proud of Gerard. He doesn’t lie, which is a big step. “Maybe I am,” he says, coolly. If it weren’t a hit towards his self esteem, I would have cheered. I stare at him and stare at the flock around us, feeling the hackles on the back of my neck rise a bit. I can tell these guys want to do more than verbally abuse us. I’ve been beaten up before, but never on my birthday, and never on Halloween. If they ruin this holiday for me, I think I’ll kick them back. Normally I’m against reacting but…

Also, if they even lay a finger on Gerard, they won’t be able to wake up the next morning.

The guy pokes Gerard in the chest, and I feel a growl rumble in the back of my throat. “I never got to finish with you before you used that unfair trick on me. What I wanted to say was, we don’t allow gays in our community.”

Gerard just sneers at him. “How is it unfair what I did? I kicked you when you were strangling me. And why is it any business of yours what I do in my spare time?”

If Gerard weren’t so tangled in this mess, I would have kissed him right there. He’s being awfully brave. I’m assuming this isn’t the first time he’s been picked on, but even I couldn’t be as strong as he is right now.

Before I can even really respond, the guy has punched Gerard in the jaw. Gerard jumps a few feet before sagging to the ground. I scream his name, running towards him before I’m snagged by two pairs of arms, one on either side of me. I screech, kick out behind me wildly, and manage to make one of my captors let go. After that I struggle free and pounce on the guy who’s about ready to kick Gerard in the face.

I’ve latched onto this guy’s back. He just howls and spins around, trying to slap me off. Gerard sinks, low, and manages a really awesome round-house kick to one of the guys standing by, so he sinks to the ground. I’m watching Gerard as my hands crawl up this fucker’s face and cover his eyes, so now he’s swatting me and his own eyes. I kick him hard, suddenly, kicking off of him in the back of the spine so he has no choice but to fall down on his haunches. When he’s down I kick him hard in the gut so he jumps slightly. I see a small pool of blood dribble from his mouth but honestly can’t give a shit. I turn and watch Gerard, ready to help if he needs it.

Now Gerard’s moving on to the other two guys. He punches one in the jaw, exactly like his attacker just did, and knees him hard in the guy. He releases a large gust of breath with a oof and falls down, holding his stomach. The next guy, Gerard just grins wickedly and hits him in the crotch. He falls down as well, leaving the guys who attacked us all down.

“Run!” Gerard hollers as he picks up the two candy bags. With his free hand he seizes my hand and carts me off until I get my legs underneath me. We run away from the street until we arrive at Gerard’s house, panting, exhausted, but for the most part, unscathed.

Boredom.

2007-11-25T17:28:38Z

I feel like lamenting.

2007-11-24T23:05:41Z

Those of you who are like scary-loyal to commenting my journals, you can ignore this one if you like. :]
Just wanna...lament.

~*~

My goal for coming into high school, excluding school-work goals, was one thing:
find someone who liked MCR as much as I did.
Someone who could honestly say they thought about them all the time, thought about listening to them, waiting for them to come on your iPod when you had it on shuffle, etc.
I figured...my town is big enough, my fucking SCHOOL is big enough (4000 kids in one high school)! There has to be someone who likes MCR as much as I do.
I can say...I've been disappointed so far.

There is one girl~ who's a fucking poser. I love her to bits, she's my friend, but she's into MCR for the label. Nothing else.
"Oh my God, I love MCR so much!"
"...who's your favorite band member besides Frank and Gerard."
"I don't know anyone else in MCR other than Frank and Gee."
That...broke my heart.

There's a girl who's actually my friend, who COULD become this said friend that I want so bad, but we just. Don't talk, like ever. She's one of my close friends but I'm in like all high classes and she's in all low, we have no classes together and I can't hang out with her in the morning because I'm with other people. So...it's hard.

There's another girl, who's actually really sweet. But, idk. Junior and we only see each other during SMAC meetings.

Everyone else...gah.
There's a boy who wears the t-shirts a lot - the ones that were at Spencers over the summer.
My friend (close actually) likes them, but no where near as much as I do.
My friend has a jacket, but he's afraid to admit he actually likes them as much as I do, since his closest friend hates him.
And...that's the majority of people with MCR shirts or ANYTHING that I've met.
Give or take a few people who I didn't feel like mentioning.

I just want someone. Who I can lie on my bed with, our feet dangling off the side, blaring one of their CD's and both of us belting the lyrics out without shame.
Someone who will go around on MCR day with me, wearing cardboard signs that announce to the town what day it is.
Who'll parade down my neighborhood in a MCR jacket.
Someone who knows what it means when I write "hi" on my hand, or carry a sign that says "I *heart* Gerard."
Or, maybe why I've written "Bob's Book of Cats" on my Health binder.
Why my iPod is named iBob...

I'm just. Really fucking disappointed.
I've been avoiding MCR because when I listen to them, it just reminds me.
That I'm like the only true MCR fan in my town.
It's not that I get all that made fun of for liking them (I've taken a punch, but that is about the extent). It's not even that people piss me off because they don't like them - I understand why they don't.
It's just there are so many goddamn posers and, honestly, I'm sick of them thinking they know more about MCR than I do.
I'm so sick of going up to someone in an MCR tourshirt going "DID YOU LOVE THE CONCERT??" only to have them look at me strange and go "I didn't go, I bought the shirt from Spencers."

The kids who are getting into MSI, oh GOD...they fucking annoy me.
There's ONE other person in my school who likes MSI...thank god for them.

But all the kids who think that Gerard is changing, or the band is changing...
Yeah, they are, but that's because they're human.
Everyone changes.
Gerard changed a lot during 3Cheers.
Frankie changed a lot from Pencey Prep to MCR.
Mikey changed a whole lot, too.
What...what can you do?
They're human.
It doesn't mean anything...
And just cause Gerard is acting different, acting a little more like an adult doesn't mean he's doing drugs or something.
><;

Idk. I have so many online friends that are exactly like who I want to meet...in my town.
I wish we could all, like, get a town and name it "My Chemical City" or something.
And just live there and raise our children to like MCR and ugh.
But we can't.

MCR saved my life.
They really did.
If it weren't for MCR, I wouldn't have been able to do a lot of things, I would have been...so different.
I think it's partially for that reason that it shocks me so much that not one person in the entire damn school of mine agrees with me.

~*~

My lament is over. :3

Teenage.Stupidity [15/24]

2007-11-24T18:01:56Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [15/24]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-15 for like...hotmakeoutness
POV: Frankie's Mhm <3
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: MAKING OUT NESS AND uh. Yeah.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen // Chapter.Fourteen

--

Author's Note: Sorry that took so long :[[
HERE'S THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER.
less than 10 more to go.
Do you guys want me to just upload 'em all in rapid succession? o.o
<3

--

“You’re going to leave me on my birthday!?” I holler at him, my mouth falling open in shock. I’m just playing up the drama, but seriously. How the hell can he leave me on my birthday?

He looks as if he’s in pain. “I’m really sorry, Frankie. But if I want to take you trick-or-treating, I have to get my homework done and I have a shitload…,” his voice trails off and I realize that he’s actually really upset he can’t spend my fifteenth birthday with me completely.

I hug him tightly in response. “It’s okay,” I soothe him. He just smiles sadly, kisses my cheek and I get out of the car. I walk up the steps and turn around, waving to him as he drives away. He blows a small kiss to me and heads in the other direction, back to his house.

The kiss he blew me literally makes me melt. I feel it land on my cheeks, on my lips, warming me up to a point where I boil over and disappear, no longer property of myself, but of Gerard. I would have been angry about it, if Gerard wasn’t so fucking perfect.

Sighing, I turn and open the door, trudging through the house. Mom comes through the kitchen and cracks a smile at me. “Happy fifteenth, Frank!” She hands me a card. I drop my backpack and kick it by the stairs, dashing over to give my mom a quick hug and retrieve the card. I open it carefully and read the front of it. It’s just one of those funny cards, making fun of fifteen year olds. I unfold it and one of those cool credit-cards with cash on it pops out. On one side of the card it says, the amount on this card is four hundred dollars. Make good use of the money!

I whoop loudly, and Mom laughs. “Thanks, Mom!” I holler at her, hugging her tightly. Biggest amount of money I’ve ever gotten. Holy shit. I think of all the things I can do with the money, like buy new clothes, take Gerard out for dinner…

She smiles at me. “It’s partially for doing such a fantastic job for your first year of high school so far.”

I roll my eyes and head towards the fridge to grab something light to snack on, and a drink. As I’m heading over there, I hear her say, “your father will want to talk to you when you come back from trick-or-treating.”

Frowning, I look over my shoulder at her, mid step. “What’d I do?”

She chuckles lightly. “Nothing, I’m sure. I think he just wants to have the ‘you’re-growing-up-son’ discussion with you.” She shrugs. I shrug back at her, and reach into the fridge to snatch the contents of my splurge.

“I’m gonna be upstairs doing homework and waiting for my friend, alright? It’s Gerard. He should be coming over around six, or five thirty. I’m not sure.”

Mom nods. “I’ll send him up to your room, or call you down. Either way.”

I hug her again and head down the hallway, slinging my backpack over my shoulder as I trudge up the stairs. I skip down the hallway until I get to my room, closing the door but leaving it open just a crack so I can hear if mom calls me. I throw my backpack on my floor and fling myself on top of my bed.

None of my teachers actually gave me homework. Okay, well, they gave homework that’s due in two days. So I’m just going to do it all tomorrow—who cares if it takes twice as long? Anything to avoid homework.

My eyes wander around my room lazily for a moment, before I reach under my pillow and pull out the book I’ve been reading. It’s pretty good—about a girl living in Nazi Germany. I’m about halfway through the rather thick book and it keeps getting more and more addicting. I scramble up so that I’m sitting on my bed, cross legged, with the book in my lap.

As I’m transported into the world of the young girl, my mind tricks me into pretending I am her, and I lose track of time. My time is her time—even though only an hour has passed, it feels as if a month has. I’m weary, tired, held so low I’m about to sink under the weight of my own emotions.

Needless to say, I scream loudly when I hear Gerard say, “boo.”

“Holy, fucking, shit!” I scream as loudly as I can, throwing the book and running one hand through my hair while the other flies to my chest. “Gerard, you scared the crap out of me!”

He’s sitting in my desk, his hands steeple. He smiles, serenely, the smile out of place with his black ensemble and the scythe behind him. The book landed at his feet, so he stoops down and picks it up. “Know what page you were on?” he asks me innocently.

I stumble off the bed and glare at him, snatching the book away. “Three-oh-two.” I find my page and fold it down, not caring that it supposedly ruins the book. He just laughs at my reaction and stands up, pulling me to him by the waist.

“Off to dinner?” he mumbles against my ear. His lips find their way to my neck and he kisses me, softly.

“Dinner?” I ask him. “I thought we were trick-or-treating.”

He pulls away and asks me incredulously, “do you know what time it is?”

I shake my head. I don’t have a clock in my room, besides for my alarm clock, which is buried beneath blankets.

“It’s four. I’m taking you out for an early dinner, and then we’re going to go fill our pillow cases with free candy from people we’ve never met before.”

I gasp at him, smiling partially from his take on Halloween and the fact that he’s taking me to dinner. “Well, where are we going, Monsieur Gérard?” I pronounce “Monsieur Gérard” with a French accent, so it sounds right. Mon-see-ur Ger-ar.

He giggles quietly at my sad attempt at a French accent. “I was thinking Denny’s,” he says, seriously. I make a face at him and shake my head, poking him in the chest.

“No way I’m going to Denny’s for my birthday dinner!” I say the restaurant as if it’s contagious, as if it’s a disease. He laughs and pulls me closer to him, if it’s even possible, and teases me with a small kiss on my lips. It leaves me breathless, feeling a bit dazed by it.

Against my lips he whispers, “doubt my decision for dinner now?”

I shake my head, closing my eyes. They were so heavy; I just had to give in to the temptation of letting them rest. My arms slowly travel up his body, fingers brushing every crevice they can find, and wrap around his neck. I have to lean up a bit, but he leans down and grants me another fantastic birthday present.

He kisses me, this time deeper than the touch-and-go a few seconds before. I kiss him back, my tongue swiping into his mouth for a moment before pulling back. One of his hands releases my waist and rides up my shirt, holding the back of my head. I feel each of his fingers burning into my skull—I could tell you the exact location of where they all sit on my head. They quickly move from my skull, however, and begin to run through my hair gently.

I groan as his body grinds against mine. The friction is almost unbearable—I want these pants off, now—but I grind back against him. If he’s going to tempt me, I might as well tempt him back. Thou Shall Not Eat Thy Fruit, but who really wants to eat fruit, anyway?

His lips leave mine for a moment so he can nip at my ear, but they find their way back to my lips quickly. Our legs are tangled, even though we’re standing up, and it’s only too soon that I begin to back up, carefully, slowly. Towards my bed.

I force myself to leave his touch, falling back onto the bed. But, as I expected, Gerard tackles me immediately. I’m lying down on the bed, and Gerard is on top of me. His weight is supported by feeble arms resting on either side of my head at slightly different angles. His lips touch mine twice before attacking them. The attack would be classified as vicious if it wasn’t so loving.

My hands, which are free, find their way to his hips and I hold them. I lift his shirt up a little, sticking my fingers beneath the waist band of his pants just enough that I can cling to flesh. My nails dig into his hips and he gasps on my mouth. His hips twitch, thrusting onto me with force. It doesn’t come as much surprise to me when he collapses on top of me, writhing almost.

Not that I’m any better. I’m writhing beneath him as well, still holding on as tight as I can to the little bit of flesh while his fingers play with my face. Sometimes, they knot with my bedding, or they tangle in my hair. Either way, he always has at least one finger touching me at all times.

I can’t help my hands but move away from his hips, traveling underneath his shirt. I grip the hem, pulling it up as I go, until it’s at his chest. He pulls back, straddling me just enough to tug off his shirt. “If, if, I take off my shirt, you have to take off you-yours, too.” Without even waiting for an answer he yanks my shirt up over my chest, pulling it over my head and discarding it somewhere by his shirt.

His breathing is heavy as he stares down at my chest. He’s still straddling me, and we’re both hard. We both know what we want—what we want more than anything—but both of us know that we’ll stop before we do anything too bad. It doesn’t hurt to dream, to hope, though. I hope that he doesn’t stop, that we go all the way. But I know my Gerard and even through a haze of sex-induced thoughts, he’ll remember what he told me earlier.

I buck my hips into him and he collapses on top of me. I shudder darkly as I feel his tongue scrape across my chest. I grip his head and pull him towards my mouth, where we kiss for a moment, before he undoubtedly pulls away.

“This is as far as I’m going to go right now,” he pants, his voice low and husky. He slowly crawls off at me, eyes lingering on my crotch, on my button. I can see his eyes willing the button to unclasp and the zipper to fall down, leaving me bare for him. But, like the good boyfriend he is, he snatches his shirt and puts it on. He throws me mine and I put mine on, too.

After a moment of calming down, I’m happy to report that my boner has disappeared. So has his. He grins at me, taking my hand and raising it to his lips to kiss. “Now, to dinner,” he says, leading me out of the room.

Teenage.Stupidity [14/?]

2007-11-15T11:35:35Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [14/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-15
POV: Frankie's!
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Just Language...
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve // Chapter.Thirteen

--

Author's Notes: So. In my files, this series is done.
There are 24 major chapters, and an epilogue. <3 It's really quite sad, but I'ma have to go and edit A LOT before I release the chapters because they're a little fucked up.
But, I like this chapter, and the few following ones <3
So! Enjoy.

--

It’s the same costume I’ve been wearing for a few years. Sure, the clothes have changed, but the idea is still the same.

I tug on my “birthday” hat and rummage through my closet for my pair of white Tripp pants. It takes me a moment, but I find them. Luckily, I was smart enough to hang my white jacket up, but it takes me a moment to find a plain black tee shirt. Emphasis on the word “plain,” please.

Tilting the hat to the side, I smile at my reflection in the mirror. The hat is a top hat, basically, white with black candles on top. It says in black letters, “It’s my birthday, bitch!”

Twirling away from the mirror I swipe my hand across my dresser. I finally find my black eyeliner and I go back to my mirror, outlining my eyes with it. With a nod at my reflection, I snatch my backpack from the corner of my room and start to stomp down the stairs.

Unfortunately, I’m greeted by my father. I suck in breath as I see him in the kitchen. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can avoid him—

No. he takes a look at me and his lip curls. “You look like a—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish because I finish for him. “Faggot. Yeah, dad, I know I do.”

“Well, why don’t you change?”

I scowl at him. “Because, dad. This is my costume. You know, people dress up on Halloween.” Can’t you just leave me alone? It’s my birthday!

He walks up to me and pokes me in the chest, hard. “You forgot to sign up for football this year. Next year, I’m signing you up if you don’t yourself. Got it?”

I glare openly at him, hoping he gets my vibes of “I fucking hate you.” I just stand there, steaming with pure anger, before he wipes his lips with the back of his hand and storms out of the room. I shake my head, disgusted, and head outside to wait for Gerard.

There’s no need to wait—he’s waiting in his car. I slide into the car, for some reason nervous he’s going to make fun of my costume. But he just stares, open mouthed at me. I fidget a little bit. “Alright, if you want to tease me, go ahead—”

I don’t get much farther because suddenly my words are captured by his mouth. He kisses me, hard and desperate. His hands grip my arms, toy with my jacket, wanting so obviously to tug it off but not having the courage to do so. My breath hitches while I kiss him back. Like, whoa. Random kiss, much, but it’s amazing. If he gives me anything else for my birthday, I doubt it’ll be as awesome as this one.

He pulls away after a minute or so, and gasps out, “you look amazing.” Then, after he calms his breathing, he twists around and takes a small box from the back seat. I eye it. “Happy birthday.” He smiles.

I rip off the packing and stare down at the season pass to Grounds for Sculpture. Actually, there’s two of them—one for me, one for Gerard, I’m assuming. I squeal and lurch over to hug him, separating a small box and the tickets in the process.

“Hey! Open your other present, too!”

So I pull off the cover and nearly drop it. It’s not that it’s so magnificent, it’s just…wow.

It’s the symbol for two men in love—on a chain. I pull it out and stare at it, realizing it’s a necklace. Quickly, I latch it onto my neck and finger it in a kind of awe struck way.

Its like, how many times have I stared at those charms and wished someone would give it to me? How’d Gerard know to get it for me for my birthday?

His voice is nervous and worried. “Do you like it?”

My only answer to him is “ohmyfuckinggod, yes.” I shake my head in disbelief for a moment before I lean over the seat and press my lips against Gerard’s for a small, sweet kiss. “Thank you,” I whisper across them. “For everything.”

He smiles at me and backs out of the driveway, heading towards school. It’s then that I look at him—really look at him—and notice he has a costume on. (Don’t yell at me for not looking at what he was wearing, he’s sitting down for Pete’s sake.) He’s dressed up as the Grim Reaper. I look in the back seat and notice that, yeah, he has a scythe and it all.

“We should go as a pair,” I wonder aloud. “Birth and death. Huh.”

Gerard snorts as he makes a turn onto our school’s street. “I wonder what the school would say about that one!”

I’m assuming that it’s been an annual thing, but this year our school is having this huge Halloween Parade. It’s a really big deal and stuff, like half the population dresses up and goes into the parade. There are prizes for the best costumes, best look alike, and best pair. I had been planning on walking in the parade, sure, but maybe Gerard and I have a chance to win something.

When he parked, I get out and hug him tightly. “Come on, let’s go as a pair. It’ll be fun.” I give him a small, cute smile, one that’s known in the past as irresistible. He smiles down at me, exhales loudly, and nods. I squeal and stand on my tiptoes to kiss him quick.

He snatches my hand and we walk in. “Like I could ever say ‘no’ to you,” he mutters darkly under his breath, and I laugh loudly.

We both go our separate ways to sign in for the parade. My homeroom teacher smiles sweetly at me, at my costume. She rolls her eyes and ushers me to the cafeteria, so I head over there, wondering if Gerard’s there yet.

He is, looking sort of angry. “They almost wouldn’t let me come to this parade. But I said that my partner was here, so I had to. They finally agreed.”

I frown. “I’m sorry.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, as if it’s over. We head into line and await the chance to make fools of ourselves in front of the entire school—and on camera.

I watch as kid after kid files into the cafeteria. There are so many kids, it’s almost frightening. The line has coiled into small, intricate circles in the middle of the room. After wrapping around the entire room enough times. It’s like, whoa. The parade starts after the last kid—a lazy-looking cupid whose bow and arrow looks crooked—and we all head out of the cafeteria.

Gerard and I walk in hand. For the most part, to shake up Cherokee, but also to symbolize our costumes. My necklace is underneath my black shirt. Not because I’m ashamed, but because it doesn’t go with my costume. I’ll take it back out as soon as the parade is over, though.

The parade goes all over south. We go up stairs, down stairs, around corners I didn’t even know existed. I’m rolling my eyes at Gerard, mainly for the sheer idiocy of having such a big high school. But he just smiles at me, placing his chin on my head and walking behind me with his arms over my shoulders. I grip his hands there, and we walk in a way that we both perfected over the month of dating.

After what seems like ages, the parade finally winds back into the cafeteria. We find a table and sit down on it gratefully. Gerard’s sitting on top if it rather than on the bench, so I crawl on top of the table and place myself in his lap. He just hugs me closer to him.

“Alright, guys!” one of the teachers who was helping the parade shrieks over the noise in the room. It takes a minute, but gradually the noise dies. “They’re going to be announcing the winners, so everyone shut up for a minute!”

I snort and tilt my head back onto Gerard’s shoulder. “Wonder who won.”

Gerard shrugs. “I think that one person dressed as Vlad the Impaler should win best imitation. That’s a good costume, and it really does look like the paintings we have of him. But, I bet she’s not going to win.”

The loudspeaker comes on just as Gerard finishes. “The winner of the best imitation is the girl dressed up as Paris Hilton as a convict.”

Gerard nods knowingly. “Of-course.”

“The winner of the scariest costume is the girl dressed up as a zombie…ape…doctor.”

A girl behind us stands up, squeals really loudly, and runs up to the front.

“The winner of the funniest costume is the hobo.”

I snort at that. I saw him. I had hoped he would win.

“The winners for the best pair are the two dressed up as death and as birth.”

“Holy shit!” I scream and fall out of Gerard’s lap. We get a stern look from one of the teachers but they don’t say anything. Gerard climbs off the table and helps me stand up so we can go and roam to the front. I’m still shocked that we actually won something.

“The winners of the best group are the Chick Magnets. Please come to the main office to retrieve your prizes.”

I’m laughing really hard as Gerard and I skip down the hallway towards the office. We won, on my birthday. How freaking ironic!?

Teenage.Stupidity [13/?]

2007-11-10T12:40:18Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [13/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-13
POV: Gerards XD
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Language. GSA mentioning 8D
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.Eleven // Chapter.Twelve

--

Author's Note: I've gotten up to chapter 21<3
Uhm...yeah...
Random...but I'm dog sitting and i just took the damned dog for a walk and my fingers are really numb TT_TT
-luffles him anyway even if he's ugly- XD I dun like English Bulldogs much, but he's kinda cute.
Blahdiblahdiblah...
here you go<3

Wait...I need you guys to read something TT_TT It's not Frerard, but Javey...Will you Cry for Me?...Or Will you Cry With Me? IMO, the best damned slash fic ever. It's the thing that got me obsessed with slash. The thing that got me crazed over all things BOYONBOY. XD
<3 READ AND SHOW IT YOUR LOVE!

--

It’s hard to believe, but Halloween—and Frank’s birthday!—are just around the corner. Two more days.

I have Frank’s present picked out for him, too. It might be a little girly, but who really cares? I’m hoping he likes it.

As for my family situation…Mikey hasn’t cornered me. He comes down as often as he always did, just handing me his blankets wordlessly. But, once, we were both stripped in our boxers. He had probably heard the washing machine, but had come anyway. He stared at me, raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged nervously. He sighed a bit and dumped his stuff in my arms, curling up on my mattress like he always has.

It was actually me who went to talk to him. After I had deposited the stuff in the laundry room and had resigned myself to a really sleepless night, I sat on the edge of my bed and watched Mikey for a moment. I whispered, kind of softly, “was it good, at least?”

His eyes blinked open and with a sort of sorry expression, he said quietly, “it was of me and another guy.”

I tried to fight the widening of my eyes but I’m sure they grew bigger than dinner plates. He smiled bitterly at my expression. “Really?” I asked. The thought of my little brother having a wet dream about a guy was a little different. Did being gay run in families? Maybe it did.

He had twisted a bit, so that he was lying on his back instead of on his side. He stared up at my ceiling and said silently, “I liked it.”

My brain had pretty much ceased to work. Confusion, desperation, and happiness flooded through me all at the same time. Confusion—I thought it was kind of rare that a kid was gay. Desperation—I felt bad that my little brother had to go through the crazy ups and downs of it, too. And happiness—at least he was figuring it out a lot faster than I did, which would probably save him a lot of hardships.

But, he also added, “I don’t get it, though. I’ve had dreams about girls for the most part…and I’ve liked them better than this one, but the guy on guy one wasn’t that bad.” His face warped as he shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

I tilted my head to the side and mused over his statement. “Maybe…bisexual?”

He frowned and shook his head again. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s just…my mind is being experimental. Isn’t adolescence the age of experimenting?” A small smile crept up his lips as he said this, but it slowly faded.

“Why would you be experimenting with guys…?” I asked suspiciously. Something hadn’t been adding up in my mind, and it was confusing me. He struggled up onto his arms and stared at me for a few moments, long and hard. I stared back at him, much weaker than his gaze.

Then, with a sigh he plopped down and closed his eyes. “Because my big brother’s gay and I guess my mind wanted to see if I was, too.”

My initial reaction to that was, well, oh-kay then. After I thought about it some more, I realized that it made sense and I wasn’t quite so mortified. I was still sad that I had put him through trauma, but it was what had to happen. I guess.

Oh, yeah. Devon? He didn’t bother me over the course of the last month, but other guys did. It wasn’t that Frankie and I were making out in the hallways or anything. We just walked around hand-in-hand when we could. Before classes, we were always together. Maybe we brushed lips a few times, but that was the extent of our kissing in public. But people were inquisitive enough that they noticed.

But, for every glare we got, we got smiles, too. We even got a few people shouting as we walked by, “gay pride forever!” A girl walked up to us one day, actually. She had glasses on, and I remember that she shoved her bag over her shoulder, and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She said solemnly: “thanks for being so out and proud. Come to the GSA, we need people like you.”

In fact, if I look across the room, I can see that girl right now. I raise a hand and smile weakly at her and she does the same to me.

Believe it or not, Frank and I are attending a GSA meeting. The club has already started, but oh well. We’re only about two meetings late.

The teacher, a short, stocky woman in a men’s suit, comes up and hugs us. “How are you, doll babies?”

I want to raise an eyebrow at her but Frank laughs and hugs her back. “Having a gay old day,” he says cheerfully, and she laughs.

“My name is Ms. Rulo. If you need anything, come find me. Right now it’s social time, so go and make some new friends. Scoot!”

Frank and I look at each other. I’m wide eyed but Frank is smiling, completely relaxed—at home. He takes my hand and leads me over to a gaggle of girl in one corner of the room. We can’t really understand what they’re saying until we get closer.

“…oh my God, she was so hot,” one of the girls grins. Then the girl who was talking notices us and she waves. Everyone turns around and waves at us as well. “Wait a second; you’re the two that Mandi invited?” Instead of answering verbally, we both nod in unison.

The girl sticks her hand out and says, “Hola. I’m Battle.”

Frank takes her hand and shakes it, introducing both of us. “We’re new. I was planning on joining but kept missing the announcements for the club in the morning.” The girls all nod as if they understand, as if the club is evasive. I just stand and watch, sort of nervous but at the same time completely comfortable.

Behind us, someone claps loudly and shouts, “Alright, guys! Sit your behinds down and let’s get this club rolling!”

Frank and I can’t find any desks to sit in—they’re all full—so I go and sit on the air conditioner that lines the room. He sits on my lap and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. I see a few kids smile at us.

Ms. Rulo keeps talking, using a power point that is obviously being written by the two girls behind her desk. They’re laughing, munching cookies and poking the computer screen. She’s talking about ping pong tables, pretzel sales, and gay figures in literature. It’s a very “what the fuck” club, I can already tell.

However, despite the oddity of it, it’s over way too fast. As Frank and I are heading out, Ms. Rulo snatches our arm and drags us towards her. “Thank you for coming, boys. We mostly have all lesbians here…guys are a little afraid to show emotion sometimes, gay or not. Anyway, will you guys come to the next meeting?”

“Hell, yeah!” Frank answers for both of us, and I nod to accent his statement. She rolls her eyes and hits us, but I see the amusement in her eyes.

“Off you go to the bus!” she says. Then, playfully, she raises an eyebrow. “Or, are you driving him?”

I got the suggestion in her voice, and laughed. “Yes ma’am, I’m driving him—but I promise to take him home.”

We head out and to my car. Frank turns and asks me, “did you have fun?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

He nods, grinning from ear to ear, and realize that that was an understatement. Frank didn’t have fun: he had a blast.

When we reach my car, I jump on him really fast. I tackle him, sticking my hands in his back pocket. My lips capture his in a chaste kiss, and he kisses me back for a few moments. I pull away and whisk my keys from my pocket, crawling into my car and starting it up.

Frank places his backpack onto his lap and hugs it to his chest tightly. “What did you get me for my birthday?” he asks.

As if I’m going to answer him. I look at him, make sure he realizes that there’s no way in hell I’m telling him, and turn my gaze back to the road. He stomps his foot against the floor of my car, acting like a child, but it’s really adorable in my opinion. I almost blurt out what I got him, but then change my mind.

“You’ll find out in two days.”

About Me

2007-11-10T01:11:28Z

My Real Name Is: Darci
But You Can Call Me: Toast, Toastie, Toasty, or Darci if you'd like.

Born On: May 30th, 1993. And proud of it.
Age: Do the math, lazy.

Hobbies: Writing, reading, drawing, listening to music, dancing when no one is looking, world civilizations, helping people out, volunteer work, among other things.

Never Say: "Hate" around me. Seriously, don't try it. I will slap you upside the head.
Always Say: "Love" around me. <3

Is...:
*An MCR-holic.
*A writing-holic.
*Kind.
*Hyper and spazzy.
*Obsessed with Chocolate Covered Pretzels.
*Drinks too much Soda.
*Reads way too much.
*Trusts too easily.

75% Hyper
7% Happy/Content
5% Depressed
3% Calm

>>I care too much. I tend to hand my heart to someone, only to have them hand it back to me, telling me it's not good enough for them. It hurts.
>>Is so for Gay rights it's almost frightening.
>>Been called a dyke too many times.
>>Luffles MCR with such a passion, it's frightening.
>>Tends to overplay songs.
>>Has five all-time favorite songs: Hey Juliet, Helena, Rooftops, Roses for the Dead, Rebirthing - in the order I've heard them.
>>Rocky Horror fan.

! Vampires rule.
! Zombies rule, too.

~Corrects grammar a bit too much.
~Can be very, very obnoxious.
~Gets sad too easily.
~Her love is the kiss of death.

-HARRY POTTER FAN-
-DARREN SHAN FAN-
-TWILIGHT FAN-

Loves EVERYONE. Even the people who annoy the shit out of me.

Anti-violence...except in stories and writings.

Currently writing a novel. That is hoping to be published, not because of the money, but because this story needs to get OUT.

Invader Zim and Danny Phantom for ever.
Because cartoons are better than reality.

<3

Teenage.Stupidity [12/?]

2007-11-08T04:36:09Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [12/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-15
POV: Tis in Gerard's ^^
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Language. Sad.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten // Chapter.11

--

Author's Notes: The series should be between 20 and 25 chapters, which was my original range so I'm pleased with myself.
Unfortunately, this chapter is where things begin to go downhill...I mean they get happy at intervals, yes, but after this point nothing is really extremely happy. For long.
<3 Enjoy, guys! I've just started to post this on my dA.
And, by the way - at the end of the series, I'll be posting my favorite comments since some of you guys are really creative, or just make me smile really broadly. [The person who wrote me a mini poem, you win. Like, I have that comment SAVED. I love it.]
I LOVE YOU GUYS ;~;
Enjoy this sad chapter.

--

It’s just so random, I can hardly react. One minute, I’m walking aimlessly down the hallways between classes, next minute I’m shoved against a bank of lockers.

A face looms in my vision, sneering with violent eyes. “Gerard Way.” His lips curl back as he holds me by my collar.

I stare up at him, glowering. “What the fuck?” I ask incredulously. He just slams me into the lockers again, and I wince (but not so that he can see!) inwardly. His breath rolls against me and it’s a cross between poorly disguised morning breath and too many tic-tacs. I want to shove a sock in his mouth to make the stench go away, but of course I can’t. Even if it weren’t for the fact that he has my arms pinned to my sides, I think he’d really slaughter me.

“I hear you’ve crossed over the fence,” this kid says in a harsh voice. I think his name is Devon or something? I don’t know, but he’s really starting to piss me off. “Hanging out with little faggot freshmen…tell me, Way, are you a faggot, too?”

Avoiding his question, I answer his statement instead. “You can’t cross the fence if you never went to one particular side of it!” God, why is he bothering me? Where’s Frankie? He’d know what to do in a situation like this…

Actually, I know where Frankie is. He’s in class, duh. In south. I’m in north, and we have maybe, one minute tops, to get to class. This is gonna get on my nerves if he doesn’t let me go and run to my class now.

He shakes his head angrily. “So you admit to loving little faggot?”

“Stop calling him that,” I snap at him. “It’s degrading and embarrassing. You embarrass me.”

His face flares with fury and he slams me against the lockers so hard, my head smacks against it. I attempt not to wince in agony. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that!” He shakes me, as if trying to earn respect from me. Uh-huh, kid. Shaking someone and threatening them is not going to get you respect. “I’m better than you by a long shot,” he snarls.

I twist and turn, and finally I kick him between the crotch. He lets go of me, fast. I hit the ground running, but I have enough sense to turn around and shout after him. “You’re not better than me!” I holler. “At least I’m true to who I am!”

Turning into my classroom panting, I barely make it before the bell rings. The teacher looks at me with concern in her face before she shakes her head. “Get to your seat, Gerard,” she says formally, and I do.

I can’t concentrate for the rest of the class. Literally, his words echo in my head. All I can think about is his obvious and unjust hatred of me, his self-righteous smirk. It’s burned into my eyes, so that even though I’m staring down at my notes, I see his face. I hear his words mocking me.

Running my fingers through my hair, I exhale loudly and think, shit. People really fucking suck.

However angry I am, the day does go by pretty fast. It’s all a blur in my mind; I doubt I picked up one piece of information along the way. It’s just the same—last year of school, who the hell cares.

When I’m done lugging my books out of my locker, I walk off towards the gap between schools to get to south. I enter and see Frankie by the door, holding his backpack strap with a smile. I swoop down, curl my arm around his waist, and kiss his lips really softly and elusively. He melts into my arms. I let an eye scan around the hallway to make sure no one saw, and am thankful that the hallway is empty.

“Where to today?” I murmur, lips sinking into the flesh on his neck. It’s like my sanity left me as soon as I saw Frank. I’m happy that I was smart enough to tell mom and dad last night that I was staying after for some club or another, and probably wouldn’t be home until very, very late. They asked for a time estimate, and I said nine o’clock. (Yeah, they had looked at me like I was crazy, but I said it was for a project and I was going to head over to a kids house if they closed the school on us.)

Beginning to walk out of the building, Frank shrugs and he wraps his arm around my waist as well. He sways his hips and I snort at him. “Want to head over to my house?” he asks. “Mom and dad are working until, like, eight tonight. So we have a while alone….”

I pick up on the suggestive note in his voice and chide him. “Frankie,” I say slowly. “Don’t think…,” I can’t say it: it’s embarrassing. I unlock my car and we climb in. Frank just smiles sweetly, innocently at me.

“Don’t think what, Gee?” Ah, dammit, the little bastard is gonna make me say it, isn’t he?

I close my eyes and glare playfully at him. “Don’t think we’re gonna go past kissing.” He begins to pout, but I know he was expecting that.

“But Gerard!” he whines. I still haven’t started the car up and he takes advantage of the fact that I’m not driving. He lets his hand slide over my exposed skin on my arm, seductively. His face inches towards it and he runs his lips against it. I shudder, but don’t respond any other way so he gets the picture. “Why…not?”

My breathing hitches. He had lowered his voice down about one thousand octaves, and had adopted a slow, surly, husky voice. My cock twitches in anticipation but I tell it to shut up.

I gulp deeply and start the car. “Frank. I’m eighteen, and you’re fourteen.”

“I’ll be fifteen in a month—”

“Still. Still. Legal consent age isn’t until you’re sixteen. Okay? I promise. Promise. When you’re sixteen, maybe. But. Not right now.”

He began to protest again, so I add in a small voice, “Frankie, I’d be raping you. Even if you gave me your consent, it would still, according to the law, be considered rape.”

It took him a moment, as I was driving, but I see out of the corner of my eye him nod. “Alright,” he sighs. “I guess I get it.” He grimaces.

I pull into his driveway and lean over to kiss him, not much deeper than the one in school but I linger. I whisper against his lips, “thank you,” and he leans in to close to the gap. I back away, grinning, and tug the keys out of the ignition.

He leads me into his house and instead of heading up to his bedroom; we head to the family room. He explains that we’re doing this so that we can hear it when his parents come. With a plop, he folds his body down on the couch and smiles at me. “Come over here, Gerard,” he growls.

I can’t resist it. I pounce on him and our lips meet. The dark brown couch creaks as we wrestle, both wanting to be on top. But I’m not giving him the satisfaction of winning. I kiss him, deeply, letting my tongue snake into his mouth to have a taste. After a minute I move out and he begins to explore my mouth. I let him, but then we begin to battle: tongues meeting and dancing. I’m leaning against him, propped up by my hands against the creaking couch.

My fingers tangle in his hair and I rear backwards, pulling him up with me forcefully. He moans but now we’re both sitting up, both on our knees. I tug away and stare at him, at his messy, tousled hair before leaning in to kiss him again.

It goes like this for a few more minutes until we stop. (I’m glad we did, or I might have lost my self control.) I’ve let him have dominance and he just lies down on top of me, head on my chest. I wrap my arms around him and pet his hair.

He asks me in a breathless voice, “Gerard? Can I ask you something serious?”

“You can ask me anything,” I purr.

He lifts his head and pokes me in the chest, beaming. But it slowly fades and he asks quietly, “have you been made fun of for me yet?”

I blink, wondering how he found out. Or, if he found out. Maybe he’s just guessing? I think about lying to him but decide against it. “Yeah,” I say. His face takes on a pained quality so I shake my head from back to forth, pushing his head down onto my chest with my hands. “No. It’s fine. Seriously, it was just a little shake.” I try not to let how much it affected me come through my voice. “I don’t mind. It was nothing, and I’ll take it a thousand more times if I have to.”

Frankie still looks sad. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be! It’s not your fault.”

His eyes are mournful as he says, “it kind of is.”

I sit up, almost violently, and hold him by the shoulders. I look him dead center in the eye. “Frank. I’ll take anything that comes my way because I know, at least I’m being honest with myself. I really, really like you, Frank. I’ve only known you for, what, two, three weeks, and you’re already my fucking world. I’m not going to say I’ll never get angry with you, but if I ever do, it won’t be for long. Don’t ever forget that. I’ll get over it quicker than is possible, because my world revolves around you.” He looks like he’s about to cry as I hug him tightly. “I’ll still love you no matter what happens.”

Teenage.Stupidity [11/?]

2007-11-05T10:48:46Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [11/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: Erm. Like, PG-15 for talking about weird stuffers...
POV: Gerard -spirit fingers-
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Embarassing topics. And more dreams.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine // Chapter.Ten

--

Author's Notes: This chapter is kind of...blech D: Sorry, guys.
>> - I have off on Thursday and Friday. Hopefully that means writage, because we're getting to a good part. o3o;
>> - I'm writing Chapter 14...
And, well, yeah. I have a cold from talking on the phone outside so much. -randommuch?-
Yeah. Here you go. Enjoy :'D

--

Leaving Grounds for Sculpture, Frank and I walk with our hands entwined. No one really stares at us, either, which is amazing. I gently press my lips against his cheek, not enough to seriously suggest anything. Just enough to let him know that I’m thinking of him.

We get into my car and drive home, singing along to music again. But this time, it’s even better. Because that moment is hanging around us, encircling us, comforting us. It’s okay, now, to want to kiss him again, for some reason. Because the initial act has been done, so it’s not quite so diabolical. Not quite so evil.

Arriving at his house, he almost pouts. But I quickly close the gap between us and our lips mesh together. My hands hold his face in place, wanting to savor the moment. He whimpers into my mouth quietly, begging for entrance, which I immediately grant. God, how could I not.

Finally, finally, we stop. We know we have to, or we’re both screwed. But we don’t want to. Our lips touch once, twice, three times before he finally crawls away from the car. “Love you,” he whispers hoarsely.

I whisper it back; “love you so much.”

I leave with my heart swelling in my chest.

Finally I stumble in the door of my house. It’s actually kind of late, I realize with a pang: Mom and Dad must be kind of worried about me, or what ever.

When I walk in and hang my keys on the rack, Mikey greets me. He looks at me, pushing his glasses further up his nose. His brown hair hangs limply in his face, as if when he woke up he merely ran a brush through it. “Where are mom and dad?” I ask.

“Out,” he replies vaguely. I raise an eyebrow at him and walk towards the basement, but his hand reaches out and snags my wrist. “Where were you today?”

I blink at him. “Out.” He glares at me, tugging me back towards the kitchen.

“No, seriously, Gerard. Mom and dad were wondering where you were. You probably won’t get in trouble or anything. I was…,” his voice falters, “just curious.”

I frown at him. I’m not angry with him, but when I try to tug my arm away, he yanks on it. Ouch. Okay, Mikey. I’ll stay. I let my eyes narrow at him questioningly, so he knows that, yeah, I’m starting to get a little annoyed with this. “Curious about what?”

“Why have you been running the washing machine at night?” He blinks, as if he hadn’t believed he was going to say it. His other hand covers his mouth as his cheeks flare. I just stare at him.

Okay, then, Mike. You should know why. “Because my sheets have been dirty?” I ask him, hoping he catches the hint.

But he doesn’t. “Why’ve they been dirty?”

I want to shake him and growl at him in the face. Dammit, I never question him when he comes down and shakes me awake asking me to clean his sheets! “I’ve been having wet dreams.”

To my anger, he doesn’t look surprised, only as if he wanted me to say it aloud. I could slap him for that. He stares at me for a few more seconds, before he says softly, “are they about that guy Frank?”

I choke. Seriously, I start to choke. “Wh-what?” I strangle out, my eyes growing wide. How’d he find out!? “Why do you think that?”

“Cause I’ve heard you saying his name in your sleep.”

Oh. Well, then. I take a step back and he releases my hand. He looks at me expectantly, but I can’t respond. My mouth has gone dry.

What will I do if he tells mom and dad? I’m not ready for them to know. I’m not ready for Mikey to know! He looks up at me, expectantly, almost. I don’t think I could tell him, even if my mouth wasn’t so dry that it feels like I’m going to die of dehydration.

“Are…are you gay?”

I reel away from him and start to head to my basement. Mikey calls out, but I’m not paying attention. I fling open my basement door and charge down, slamming it shut behind me.

When I finally get down, I sprawl on the floor and stare up at my ceiling. Ah, shit. I can’t believe that.

I swallow, hard, and hug my arms to my chest. My eyes wander over to my cell phone and for a moment I think about calling up Frank to vent to him, but I don’t want to dump that on him. I’ll feel terrible if I do.

So, what do I do?

I sleep, of course.

Heat pools in my stomach, spreading out down my thighs. Fanning out, staining my pale completion a brilliant shade of maroon. My lips grab onto his and I run my tongue across his, sloppily missing his tongue slightly and hitting the cold metal in his mouth.

His knee finds its way in between my legs, wedging its way in and then thrusting upward, just slightly, so that he can know all my secrets. His hips jut into mine and I feel my hands slowly slide down his waist, snatching onto them and holding them into place.

Pulling back, he grins impishly into my face before leaning down and nudging my neck with his face. His breath leaves goosebumps against the exposed skin there, but it feels so good, I want him to never leave. I moan deeply, from the back of my throat, and slowly but surely grind my pelvic bone into him.

I press against him, so hard that he staggers back slightly. I take this as my opportunity to snag his lips once again, and I do: I force my lips onto his hand we kiss heatedly, passionately.

After a few moments we pull away and his hands rise and tangle in my hair. I still have my hands wrapped around his hips. I let a finger dip into the waistband of his boxers and he looks at me, a coy smile twisting his features. “Naughty, naughty,” he whispers hoarsely.

But, that’s before he reaches down and picks my hands out of them. I whimper at him, twisting one leg around his leg and bringing him closer to me. I wrench my hands away from him and press him into me. But to my surprise, he takes my hands and holds them in between our chests.

“Not now, not here,” he whispers in my ear before letting his teeth nip there. A finger brushes across my chest tantalizingly. “Just wait…good things happen to those who wait…,”

Fuck. I’ve come all over myself again. Goddamn.

With a sigh, I get up and go through the motions again. If this keeps up, my parents are gonna start questioning why the washing machine is running each night. Because, honestly, every night I freaking dream about him. Not normally do I lose control, but this is already starting into a pattern as if I was thirteen years old again.

Great. I heave a sigh and glare at my fingers as I strip down, already with boxers in my hands, and put them on carefully. I stand there for a moment, biting my lip, before I turn around and curl up on my bare mattress.

I see my cell phone on my dresser and I pick it up groggily. I frown as I realize I have a message, and wonder if I had checked it before I fell asleep.

Groaning, I flip it open and see it’s a text message.

“I love you.” The number is Frank’s.

I curl up onto my bare mattress, the phone open and stuck between my clenched fist, and fall asleep with my lips grazing the screen.

Teenage.Stupidity [10/?]

2007-11-02T00:23:48Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [10/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: PG-13...<3
POV: Gerard
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school. Also, Grounds for Sculpture DOES EXIST.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: ...<3
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight // Chapter.Nine

--

Author's Notes: 'Kay, guys. I broke my promise - slap my wrists. I'm sorry, guys. TT_TT;;

BUT. I love you guys. ISN'T THAT ENOUGH?

Uhm. I like this chapter.

Grounds for Sculputre - it does exist. It's one of my favorite places in THE entire world. I love it. So I put it in here.<3

ENJOY.

--

After what seems an eternity, Saturday does, indeed, come. Frank had been teasing me all week, waving it in front of my face and then pulling back, a true tease, afraid of getting slapped upon the wrists. Which, I was about to do.

I pull up to his house and he comes sprinting out of the house, tugging a sweat shirt tied around his waist into place. He slips into my car effortlessly (he’s had a lot of practice: it was now tradition I drive him to and from school) and hands me directions. But the name of the place is crossed off. The fuck.

I raise my eyebrows at him and he just smiles. “Drive!” he orders.

So I floor it, my little Bug squealing in protest. He snorts as I slow down, making a U-turn and going back down Frank’s street. “How far away is this place?” I ask.

His hand finds mine and we lace our fingers together. “Erm, an hour, hour and a half?” He bites his lip. “Is that too long?”

“No, no, nononono. It’s fine.” He smirks at my obvious need to go to the place he has set up, and I just scowl. Playfully.

About thirty or so minutes later, after we’ve run our mouths dry, we stop at a McDonalds to grab drinks. We decide after that to listen to music; we put in a CD and sing along together. It’s actually a lot of fun, even though it sounds corny. Our drinks slosh as we clink them together, toasting one another for no particular reason.

Finally, Frank tells me, “okay. You turn here, and then…,” his voice dies away before he says, “turn here.”

A sign greets me, adorned with perfectly manicured bushes and a few stray flowers growing. “Grounds for Sculpture,” I murmur aloud. I catch Frank’s eye and he is literally beaming, excitement flooding through him.

“It’s a really cool place,” he gushes. “I love it. I’ve come here so many times, and I still haven’t seen everything. God, it’s amazing.”

Well, with excitement like that, I can’t resist. I drive through, and Frank hands me the money due. I roll my eyes at him and tell him I’m buying lunch, but he just slugs me in the arm. We drive on through after paying our dues, and find a parking place.

I hold my hands out for Frank. “Okay. Mr. Know-it-All, take me around.”

Almost violently, Frankie snatches onto one of my wrists and we lurch towards a large building. It’s a yellow color, maybe it was orchard back in its day. Glass panes shiny and blinking in the sun. For a second I think we’re going to be going in there, but he leads me to a side division I hadn’t even noticed.

Mist assaults my vision. For a moment, I’m staggered, but Frank is leading me through it. We make a sharp right and pass a metal frame, where the watery fog is coming from. We pass through a door frame and meet a man made of metal: skip across rocks where water drips slowly. Finally we are in a small, secluded canopy of trees. Frank stops dashing and holds his hands out, proudly.

“This,” he says, brandishing around, “is the mist garden.”

I nod. He grabs my arm again and we stumble forward together, him so excited to take me around this place, I can hardly keep up. We turn left and hop over more rocks, peering around. The building is in front of us again, but a different angle. To our far left, it appears to be a man lying on his side—but it’s really just a sculpture.

It catches my breath in my throat. The realism…! It looks, honestly, as if it’s a real man. I stand and stare at it, wanting to go up and touch it. Frank chuckles at me, clucking his tongue. “There are plenty of other statues—you can touch them, but you can’t touch that one. It’s on display.”

He leads me past the man reading, to a large statue of two men hanging on either side, forming a ‘T’ shape. Oh, and they have really, really huge dicks.

My eyes go wide and Frank smirks, pointing rather proudly. “This one, obviously, has been here for a while.” I snort.

We wander out of the mist garden, and he immediately snatches my hand again and we are sprinting towards the right. We pass a mound of sand—in the shape of a snake, or a worm?—and past an attraction of metal, obviously meant to simulate drums. For smaller kids, so we skip over it.

We come to a fork in the road, and Frank turns to me, expectant. “Left or right?” he asks, eagerly.

I shrug, giving him a weird look. “How should I know? You’re the one who’s been here before!”

He rolls his eyes and darts off again, me in tow behind him, towards the left. We pass through yet another archway and now, we’re in this section with marble platforms. And a huge rock sculpture in front of us, so big, with women carved into the slates standing up. We step up on top of it, examining the carvings before jumping off and going through another doorway.

Once the golden ting of copper, but now green, a slew of men stand by a black, barred door. I cock my head at it, muttering, “that’s the Great Depression, isn’t it?”

Frank blinked at me. “I didn’t know that.” But we don’t skip a beat as he rushes forward again. We examine a huge water sculpture, and it’s stunning. A large, metal triangle juts forth from the rock surrounding it, holding in the water. The reflection is so clear, the only indication I have that it’s a reflection is the fact that if it wasn’t, the world would be upside down.

The place is fascinating. As promised, there’s another incredibly life-like statue. I brush my fingers across it, examining the man’s face, peering into the lifeless eyes that seem to hold a small twinge. I press my hand up against his. It’s an artist’s fantasy, dream, to come to a place like this.

I turn on Frank when we’re by a bridge. “Frankie, this is amazing.” I can’t help but notice that his eyes are dazzling. “Thank you so much for taking me here.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles sweetly at me, and I wrap my arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to my body. His arm slowly snakes around my waist as we walk across the bridge, past a small sitting area, and towards a fork in the road. Again. This time, he chooses right.

We pass by a whole field of life-like sculptures: all having a picnic. I dislodge myself from Frank only to examine the figurines, look at what they’re supposedly eating. Laugh as Frank tries to pluck an apple from the woman’s grasp.

When we’re done fooling around, it’s back to him pressed up against my side. After the picnic, it’s just a long expanse of trees and a wonderful view of the lake.

Frank and I walk towards a weeping willow tree, falling to our knees and sitting down beneath it. Frank rests his head on my shoulder and says softly, “you know, weeping willows are my favorite.”

I smile at the information. I hadn’t known that. I look up at the canopy, falling graciously, the tree boughs bending down, sobbing for what ever reason. The leaves dip. My face is mere inches away from Frank’s. I turn it to look at him, to see his reaction of how beautiful the scene is.

His eyes are on my face. His hands are on the ground, holding his weight up as he leans against me.

It happens in slow motion, really. I lean in, he leans in as well. But before we know it, our lips are touching, and it’s static. Electricity is shot through me, coursing from every single section of my soul, slipping into him.

His hands dislodge from the ground to rest onto me, one hand on my knee, the other on my hand, which is getting dusty with dirt. The hand that isn’t busy supporting me slowly finds its way to grip Frank’s shoulder.

Oh, man, I’m really kissing Frank. Really working my lips against his, our tongues brushing nervously somewhere in the middle. His hair tickles my face, but it’s amazing, perfect.

My palm caresses his arm, sweetly. His hand seems to want to travel up my thigh (I want it to, at least!), but is too nervous. It’s enough that we’re kissing, enough to send us both reeling, nervous out of our minds.

But it’s so natural. So wonderful. In this beautiful place, with this beautiful kid. How could things get any more perfect?

Teenage.Stupidity [9/?]

2007-10-24T10:15:02Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [9/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: FeexGee!
Rating: Erm...PG-13 for language
POV: Frankendoodles!!
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Language.
Chapter.One // Chapter.Two // Chapter.Three // Chapter.Four // Chapter.Five // Chapter.Six // Chapter.Seven // Chapter.Eight

--

Author's Notes: Heya, guys! Chapter nine.
No, I haven't written more. If I don't write more tonight, then you guys might be screwed when I come back...so XD (I'm gonna email chapter 10 to myself and then upload it when I get on a damn computer).
Thanks again for all the super sweet reviews. I love getting them: they make my day a whole lot better.
<3

--

“It’s the fag kid!” one of the kids hoots as I walk to my bus stop. I look up, pretending that it was unexpected, and stare. Their eyes roam over my shirt, but I can’t remember which one I threw on. The regulars nudge me, and of course mostly everyone shies away from me.

I go to sit on the curb, and my friend, Jamia, comes up to sit next to me. She’s less open about it, but she confessed to me last year that she’s bi. On one wrist jangles a rainbow bracelet, and on the other a pink, purple, and blue one sits. She sighs and tilts her head back a little. Her eyes wander to me before she says languidly, “so, my little faggot, how are you today?’

I don’t mind it when she calls me that, because I know she’s kidding. I roll my eyes and say, “nothing much. Still hopping the fence?” She makes an indignant face and swats me with her agenda book, which she has in her hands.

“We prefer to be described as accepting love has no gender,” she says, a sneer perched on her lips. I lean forward, elbows pressed against my knees and my hands tucked underneath my chin.

Knowing she’s going to kill me, I say, “I think it’s just being desperate.”

“Ugh!” she screeches, but I know she’s only kidding by the broad smile on her face. “Excuse me, but at least I don’t want dicks up my ass!”

Making a face at her, I use the butt of my palm and whack her across the forehead. “Excuse me!” I say, trying my best to sound angry through the laughter. “But we prefer to call it anal penetration.” She’s crying with laughter, and so am I. Her head falls onto my shoulder, shaking with laughter, unable to hold herself up.

Its then, to my surprise, that Gerard’s car pulls up at my bus stop.

He leans out of his car. “Need a ride, Frankie?”

I squeal and hop up, causing Jamia’s head to hit the sidewalk. “Thanks!” she squeaks, but when I look back I can tell she’s smiling. Before Gerard even notices, I’m sliding into his car and gripping his hand tightly.

“Hi, Gerard!” I say breathlessly. He turns and smiles sweetly at me, and my world melts.

--

He drives me home as well, and this time, I don’t have the added distraction of the kids at my bus stop obviously peering at me. His hand is held in mine, and I smile softly at our hands. He tilts his head up and smiles at me as well.

“I’m excited about this weekend,” I say, starting conversation. Not that the silence was uncomfortable, but I was one to babble. I’m sure I’m going to blow my brilliant plan if I don’t keep my fat mouth shut, but, hey. I’m welcome to tease him as well as myself, aren’t I?

He nods, his lips pulling back so his teeth glint at me. “Are you gonna tell me what this place is?” He scrunches his eyebrows together and adds, “or what it’s called?”

I shake my head, poking his hand with the nail on my index finger. “Nope. I’m going to make you die of curiosity before I reveal my secrets to you.”

Rolling his eyes, he lets those beautiful green orbs dart from my forehead down to where my legs are scrunched beneath me. But, almost as if on cue to ruin the moment, he pulls up to my house. He looks disappointed as well. Saying it weakly, trying not to suggest anything, I say, “you know…we can hang out, and stuff…”

Face contorting, he shakes his head. He lets out a breath, his chest heaving. “Damn. I wish I could. But I have, like, two papers due tomorrow that I haven’t even started.” He looks seriously let down, which, pathetically, is a relief. I was afraid that he was putting down my offer. He might still be, but that look is either genuine, or he’s a really damn good actor.

I nod. After all, I understand. “It’s fine.” I smile to let him know, and he smiles back. He raises his hand and my hand flies up with it. Slowly, gently, he presses his lips against my knuckles and lets them sit there for what feels an eternity.

Shit. I want his lips all over me. Don’t ever stop, I silently beg him. Don’t take your warm, soft lips away from my fingers, please. Or if you have to, only take them off to put them somewhere else…like on my lips, or…

He lets go of my hand and I snap quickly out of my fantasy. I snatch my backpack and skitter out of the seat, out of the car. I stick my head into the window, waving. “Bye, Gee!” I say, but I’m already skipping up my front driveway before he can respond.

Quickly darting into the house, I slam the door shut and lean against it. For a moment that’s all I can do: try to calm myself down. But I know mom’s home, and if she sees me leaning against the door as if I’m having an orgasm, I’m sure she’ll freak out.

I stumble away from the door and fling my backpack off to one corner of the foyer. Any corner. Doesn’t matter to me, as long as it’s there when I decide to get off my butt and do my homework. For a moment my mind scans through the list of things I have to do, but with the thought of Art comes Gerard’s face.

And everything else leaves my mind in a flash.

Exhaling loudly, I run my fingers through my hair and make it into the kitchen. Damn, I have it bad. Really bad. I was experiencing the things I’ve only read in books, or I’ve only seen in movies and TV shows. This constant, nagging presence in my mind that belongs to him. His eyes always glinting at me, even when my own were closed. His face looming out of the corner of my eye. His breath slithering down my neck.

I shut my eyes, tight. Fuck, shit, damn. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to be getting an errection.

Mom decided right then and there to walk into the kitchen. My eyes snap open at the sound of her shuffling in. She lets a weary eye glance over me, before she puts her hands up and said, “I don’t want to know.”

She wanders over to the refrigerator and snagged a Diet Coke, or Pepsi. What ever the difference was. She pops the can open, chugging it down to half full in one gulp. I watch her, fingers tugging nervously at the roots of my hair. They travel down to loop into the pockets of my jeans, hanging there.

“How was your day?” she asks after a minute of nothing.

I shrugs. “Nothing, really.” Except I got a ride—twice!—from this guy, who I seem to be obsessing over right now. Oh, yeah. We went on a date, last weekend. And I’m taking him on another this Saturday.

Being in the closet with your parents and having a crush the size of Jupiter was fun.

With another cursory glance, she declines any silent invitation I gave her to ask me further about my day and heads up the stairs. After a minute of standing there, I follow her, too. I know she went into her room—I heard the door close—so I head over to my room.

Immediately, I flop onto the bed. My arms snake beneath my head and I stare at my ceiling. It’s nothing special. Just some design the builders had made with what ever ceilings were made with. Once, when I was younger and Dad and I had a good relationship, I had sat on his shoulders to touch it. It had hurt.

I flip over and my head is pressed into the pillow. Don’t think about Dad, I plead to myself. Think about Gerard.

His name makes me smile, makes my stomach twist. I bite my lip, the pillow obscuring my breathing pattern. Hot air comes flooding into my mouth from my nose, but its fine. It’s kind of soothing, in a weird way. The mixture of Gerard’s comfort and the odd familiarity of having my head face-planted into a pillow.

Without even realizing it, I drift off to sleep. Stress from school, what ever. In the distant part of my mind I know I have to get up, do homework, do something. But I’m tumbling, falling into dreams. Falling into dreams where I crash into Gerard’s arms.

Tumbling, falling, crashing, gone.

Teenage.Stupidity [8/?]

2007-10-23T02:32:07Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [8/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: La-la-la.
Rating: Erm...PG-13 for mild language and kinda sadness.
POV: Gee-tard!
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Sad D:
Chapter.One//Chapter.Two//Chapter.Three//Chapter.Four//Chapter.Five//Chapter.Six//Chapter.Seven

--

Author's Note: Kay, guys. The next update will be...Thursday morning-ish? And then not again until like...Monday at the earliest.
-feels bad- I'm going to Disney, so it will be limited.
Forgive mee plz?
ANYWAY. Uhm...I've got chapter 10 written, so I'm happy...I will try to get to chapter 11 by the time I leave...and then, things should start moving along soon.
Thanks to everyone who says they like this...it means a lot. <3

--

As soon as I get home, I realize my cell phone (which I had left at home) has a missed call. Of course it’s Frank, who else would it be?

I crawl onto my bed, high from my night with Frank, and listen to the voice mail. “Hi, uh, Gerard? I was wondering. Do you want to go to this really neat place I know of? I know, this is kind of. Weird. But it’s this really cool place, with a lot of art type things that I think you’d enjoy. It’s really nice. They’re open all the time, so I was just wondering if you wanted to go, like, next weekend or something. Okay. Well, uh. It cost eight dollars to get in, and I have directions since it’s kind of…at a weird spot…but. Yeah. I’ll pay for us this time since I feel bad. Uhm. Okay. Well, I guess I’m going to hang up now. I—bye, Gerard, I’ll see you tomorrow. I had a lot of fun, by the way. Thanks.”

Laughing at his rambling message, I click call back. Of course I get his voice mail: he must be practicing guitar or something. “Hi, Frankie. I wanted to tell you I’d love to go!” I lean back against my pillow. “What time should I pick you up on Saturday, hmm? And there’s no need to feel bad for having me pay! It’s kind of required, isn’t it?” I smile, thinking about how I’d pay for everything as long as I was with him. “Anyway. I’ll see you in the morning—wait in DD hall for me, got that? I’m glad you had fun—I did, too. Bye!”

My mouth wavered over the want to say, “I love you,” but had stalled for the fear that it would scare him. I flip shut my phone and sigh contentedly. My homework’s done, so I don’t have to stress about that at all.

I twist on the bed, my legs curling up beneath me. My hands are tucked into small knuckles, ducking beneath my chin, creating the effect that I am in a tight ball. My heart hurts, yet feels amazing. It’s the kind of pain that is addicting, a true initiative to the reasons why cutters cut.

It’s…it’s different, now. It’s…amazing yet terrifying.

I feel exhilarated. Finally, a person who might actually…who I might actually feel the way all those love stories say I should feel. Frank has already become my world, has already become my freaking everything. And it’s fantastic; it’s beautiful, knowing how much I love him. Knowing how much he means to me already. I just want to hug him; I want him right next to me right now. I’ve never wanted something this bad: but every particle of my soul wants him pressed up against me.

But, at the same time, I’m terrified. These were all emotions I had figured I would feel for a girl, not for another guy. It scares me, knowing that I’m feeling this towards a guy. Does that make me weird? Strange? I’m suddenly cold, so I pull my little throw over blanket over myself. I take a deep breath and shake my head firmly.

“It’s not weird that I’m…that I’m in love with Frankie…that I’m gay…,” I whisper, and the words hurt.

With a sigh, I roll over and pretend the turmoil is rolling away as well. My eyes slowly droop closed and, before I know it, even though it is hardly seven at night, I am fast asleep. My last thought before falling into slumber is, of course, Frank.

--

The next morning, I’m leaning against the pearly white brick of south. South is so much newer and prettier than north, I notice. I’m contrasting against the wall, which I find rather amusing: my black ensemble against the white.

I see him walking down the large hallway and my smile broadens. I jump up and squeal, “Frank!” while running to him. He’s wearing another shirt, one that says: “Homophobia is a social disease.” I snort at his shirt and pull him into an embrace. He melts into me, head falling on my chest as his arms wrap around me.

“I missed you,” he sighs into my shirt before pulling away and straightening his backpack strap. He gestures that he needs to go to his locker, so I fall in step beside him. His hand searches for mine, before I snatch it up. He smiles at me, and I smile back as we walk hand-in-hand to his locker.

Someone rams into me, mumbling, “gay” under his breath, but I ignore him. We get to his locker and he pulls his books out, throwing them into his backpack haphazardly. He looks at me quizzically, as if questioning my lack of school gear.

I shrug at him. “I go to my locker after homeroom, not before.”

He nods knowingly and looks up as the fifteen minute bell rings. He scowls at it. “The one time I want it to never come, and it comes too quickly,” he mutters under his breath as he slams his locker shut. He looks up at me and bats his eyelashes. “Want to skip today with me?”

I blink at him, surprised. “Frank!” I gasp. “You know, if you skip, you can get in a hell of a lot of trouble, right?” He nods and rolls his eye at me.

“Shoulda known you’d chicken out!” he says jokingly, throwing an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. I laugh at him, patting him on the head while pulling his hair away from his eyes. “You’re too much of a goody-goody. You’re in AP classes, huh?”

Nodding absently, we wander down the halls and simply enjoy each other’s company. We chat, about nothing in particular, but it’s nice. Just being with him, being around him, being able to inhale his scent.

After a while, the five minute bell rings and he turns for his homeroom. “Bye, Gee,” he calls after me.

I wave back, holding my hand up and his fingers sink into the negative space between my fingers. His palm pressed against mine, he twists his hand just enough that the back of my hand is showing. His lips graze against it, his eyes on mine, before he turns around and lopes to his homeroom.

Oh, damn him.

The day crawls by, but barely. We have art class together and I am in the back with him again, our hands interlocked beneath the table as we work on our projects.

Eventually the day ends and he comes to me at the end of the day, scratching the back of his neck. “Erm, Gerard?” he asks tentatively.

I look at him with confused eyes.

“Will you drive me home? I’m…uh. I just don’t want to go on my bus.” His eyes are dark and haunted, and I know automatically. There must be homophobes on the bus.

I nod seriously, sticking my arm through his, which had been perched on his hips. We saunter to my car, me trying to cheer the poor kid up, him remaining gloomy. As I open the car and start it up, he begins to talk about a serious topic—so unlike him.

“Gerard…why do people hate me? Why do they hate me for being gay?”

I turn to look at him, taking my eyes away from the road for a moment. I immediately grab his hand and kiss his knuckles. He smiles weakly at me, thanking me without words for the sign of affection. “They hate you because you’re so open about it,” I murmur to him. “They hate you because you’re so sure of yourself, so sure that you’re right, and they are not.”

He sniffles and I look over at him, alarmed. But no tears have fallen—his eyes are merely red. “I hate it, Gerard. I’m so sick of it.” He grips my hand tighter and as I drive, I just want to hug him. Tell him everything will be alright.

“If you hate it, why don’t you stop…flaunting?” I ask, not unkindly. But he still stares at me as if I’ve asked him to change the color of the sky.

He shakes his head slowly. “Gerard, I can’t do that,” he almost whispers. “I can’t hide. You…you must know what it’s like to hide. I can’t go back to that, Gee. I just can’t.”

I wasn’t sure how to tell him that I didn’t know what it was like to hide, because I was still hiding, in a way. So I just hold his hand tighter and shake my head grimly, driving him to his house while he sits in angry silence.

I drop him off at his house, but not after he leans over and gently kisses my cheek. “Bye. Call me later,” he says as he hops out of the car, leaving me touching my cheek as if someone had burned it.

Teenage.Stupidity [7/?]

2007-10-20T03:05:07Z

Title: Teenage.Stupidity [7/?]
Author: toasty_vampire
Pairing: Frank and Gerard...durr.
Rating: PG-13/15 for language and sad stuffs and blood.
POV: Gerard, but in like, dream la-la land o_o
Summary: Gerard is a senior in high school. Frank is a freshman. The two meet in art class, and are immediately captivated by one another. But when things change, their friendship becomes unbalanced. Neither are sure what they're feeling, and in such a homophobic community, the thought of being together is almost as bad as badmouthing President Bush.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen. Cherokee high school does exist, though, and it is my high school.
Author Notes: <3 check each chapter for specific author notes, kay? They're too long to put in here (because I cannot keep things short).
Warnings: Whoa. Sexdreamsftw.
Chapter.One
Chapter.Two
Chapter.Three
Chapter.Four
Chapter.Five
Chapter.Six

--

Author's Notes: I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THIS LIKE DELAY THING. The reason is pathetic...it's because I haven't felt like writing.
I'm so sorry. I have this thing, where I should be at least two chapters ahead...I just finished chapter nine, sooo. I'm gonna write more since I'm FINALLY past the part that was getting me all, "damn, JUST HURRY UP."
Anyway. I like this chapter. I was gonna cut it out but was like...no. :]]
Enjoy.

--

It’s so cliché, and yet so perfect.

A blanket is spread around me, tickling my arms as I shift them. I am splayed out on the soft fabric, letting my body touch the entire thing, so it is circling me. My skin feels clammy, but other than that, I am warm. I am comfortable. My eyes flutter as the wind dances across my face, urging me to the point of oblivion. Above me, the sky sparkles, twinkles, shines. An artist has dropped his paint brush, splattering it across his canvas.

Suddenly, a figure is over me. Its face is blocked, but I do not know why. They are far away, at least five feet above me. They stare down at me, before slowly sinking to their knees.

It’s Frank. My heart goes into overdrive as I stare into his smiling face. Slowly, gently, teasingly, he crawls over me and sits on my thighs. His crotch is directly above mine, and I can feel him, semi-hard, above my own self. His face looms in front of me, and my eyes slowly slide open more.

Fingers slowly become one as he places his weight into his palms. He leans down, down, chest pressing against mine, legs tangling together. He catches my lips: he tastes like the night, sugary, almost syrupy sweet. I breathe him in, sighing into his mouth as my hands rise to tangle into his hair.

Immediately he bites down on my lip; my mouth opens, and his tongue finds its place. His hips grind into mine, enough to make me go crazy. By this time, I am no longer innocent, and my arousal has been revealed. He takes it in stride though, and he obviously isn’t offended with it, the way he’s teasing me by rubbing circles onto my stomach beneath my shirt.

After a few moments of heated kissing, he rears up and tugs off his shirt. I hastily get mine off, not able to get it off faster. I stare at his chest, at the well toned, pale terrain, and immediately grab him. I pull him down so he is on top of me again, and no matter how hard I kiss him, it is not enough.

Once again, his hips rock against mine, the friction of the jeans making me sweat more than I already am. I grab his shoulders and roll him, so that I am on top and he is on the bottom. I pant heavily, staring down at him, having broken our kissing for a moment. He stares back up at me, already giving me dominance.

Instead of attacking his lips with another kiss, I brush my lips against his collar bone. I gently place a kiss there, before laving my mark on him, so he cannot forget me too easily. I bite his skin and he bucks up. He grabs my hair, yanking me away from his shoulders and he violently kisses me.

Moaning, he swipes his tongue around my mouth, as if being parted from it was enough to make him question its original existence. I smile, and suddenly our tongues are battling for the right to the others mouth. Finally, I win, and I taste Frank. He is everywhere, an explosion for the senses. He tastes better than the night: he looks better than the sky. He’s everything anyone could ask for, and more. So much more.

His hand grabs at my crotch. I gasp into his mouth, pulling away as his fingers slowly dip into the waistband of my jeans. He is feeling around for the evidence of boxers, but tonight, I neglected to put them on. The reasons has been unfathomable for me until this point, but I would bet my mind knew this was going to happen.

Slowly, he unbuttons my jeans, slipping down the zipper carefully. Then, with the air of someone savoring the moment, he tugs down my jeans completely.

That’s when I wake up.

I’m panting really hard, and, from the feel of it, have come all over myself from the dream. My pillow is pressed into my face, and I’m thankful that it’s been there to smother my obvious moans. Also, the bed is fairly new, so it probably didn’t creak (too much at least) if I was humping my bed or what ever.

My fingers grace the edge of my blanket as I slowly crawl out of the bed to assess the damage. Damn, I haven’t had an accident this bad since, well, since I was sixteen. I sigh and take the blankets off, and then the sheets, and decide the pillow case should go in, too, just in case.

I’m pretty damn lucky my parents put the washing machine downstairs, or my accidents would never go unnoticed. And, honestly, neither would Mikey’s, who comes down when he has wet dreams to clean his own stuff up.

Walking like a zombie, I make my way to the washing room and throw the comforter and other things in there. I slowly peel off my boxers, so I’m standing there, stark naked. It’s pretty cold, but what can I really do?

I shut the top after putting soap in and set it up. It starts, and I remember from past nights that it’ll be running for two hours.

With a sigh I turn and head to my dresser. I’m still ‘excited,’ even after I’ve come all over myself, and I hurt. But I grit my teeth and ignore the desire, the plea to do anything to stop the throb. I tug on some plaid boxers and sit on my bed, hands hanging limply between my thighs as I stare at my shut-off TV set.

The washer churns in the background, and I have a case of déjà vu. How many nights, over the past few years, have I stayed up all night, waiting for my bed spread to become clean? Too many, in my opinion.

I click the TV on and set it on a low volume. Some old show is playing on Nick at Nite, and I watch it without really understanding what’s going on. After a few moments of watching it, mindlessly, I turn on my lamp and turn off my TV. Why not read something, I fight with myself. So I grab my book off my dresser and prop it open.

After about two hours of reading, I hear the washer click off. I get up, placing the book on my bed to keep my place, and go to move its contents to the dryer. Once that’s done, I crawl onto it and, for some weird reason, sit on top of it. It’s soothing, I guess, and it takes away the edge of errection that I still have.

I climb off the dryer after a few minutes and slowly walk back to my bedroom. The mirror still lays in shards on the floor, over where it had originally sat. I walk over to it and crouch down, picking up one of the pieces and staring at it curiously.

A splinter of my face is reflected in the bit. I think, this is what Frankie sees, and immediately my cheeks flush. I tilt my head to the side as I think of the reasons for me breaking the mirror.

My finger slips and a fine line of blood appears where the glass had entered the pad of my finger. I’m gay…I’m really gay, aren’t I?

My brain whirls as I think of all the times, the clues, the hints. The fact that all of my dreams, my erotic dreams, have been about other guys should have been a hint to me that I wasn’t straight. I just never made the connection that the fact I got hard for other guys wasn’t normal.

What will Dad do when he finds out? What will Mom do? They won’t kick me out. They can’t. I’m legally an adult, and even if they did, I could just get my own place. Maybe Frankie could come with me?

My throat twists at the thought of Frank’s name. Like usual. I sigh and place the piece of glass down on the ground again, watching it sparkle. There’s a small drop of blood on it, but it doesn’t bother me.

There’s nothing I can do but curl up on my bed and hope to get some sleep. It’s two AM and I have to be up at six to get dressed and eat breakfast.

I slowly crawl over to my bed and sink into the bare mattress, my eyes drooping shut as soon as my head hits the pillow.