Summertime (Frerard)

3: 2nd Sucks

Hey guys:) Hope you like this chapter.

I found myself somewhere bittersweetly familiar. I didn't even recall my journey into the woods and I began to question whether I was dream or worse, dead, because as morbid as it may sound, I wouldn't put murder past them. They are 'The Killers' after all.

The air was musky with the scent of cigarettes. Gerard Way seemed to have almost graffitied all over my forest, my home. I hated him. Crunch. I spin in the direction of the sun outburst of peace in the forest floor and I'm horrified to look up into those hazel eyes. His hazel eyes.

Now it's not just his flaming red hair that strikes my interest, this time something's different; they're not maniacal, they're empty. Truth be told, I don't know if that scares me more.

"Hello." He doesn't even make eye contact and his tone is passive as if waving politely to a stranger, he almost seems to have forgotten who I am and I know it shouldn't, but part of me is begging that somehow he has.

"Hi-Hello..." the words hastily stumble through my lips as I take in his ragged appearance and later begin to question why I care so much about the rips in the fabric of his jeans and the abundance of a jacket in the cold weather. His skin has a pale tinge to it that I can't pinpoint the cause of; he can't just be this pale, it looks almost vampirical and haunting.

His eyes are met with mine. He seems shocked that I returned his greeting, more so than I am that he even uttered one in the first place, "I didn't mean to disturb you." He made no sense - how can you greet someone and not mean to disturb them? Is he even conscious of his own actions - god knows.

"You... uhh... said hello to me?" I ran a hand through my hair, noticing the distance between the two of us. It didn't previously occur to me that we were in fact shouting at one another across a distance of ten metres.

He seems to notice this too and nods, "I wasn't talking to you." His tone is a little too bitter and I push back any stray thought of stepping closer to him.

"There's no one else here."

He nods and then after a few moments, continues, "not right now there isn't. But there was before and there will be in the future."

I can't tell if he's a hippie or druggie. Is there really that much difference?

"Are you high?" The words ineloquently slip out and he seems to be as much taken a back as much as I'm beginning to cringe.

"Higher than a kite," he smirked, stepping careless towards me, far too quickly, yet far too slow. The leaves dance under the pressure of his black combat boots that pushed foot shaped imprints into the serenity of the forest. They break the calm and for once I don't seem to mind.

I raised one eyebrow at the boy now no little than a metre away from me.

"Not on drugs though." I slowly begin to nod, not completely understanding or believing him.

"I didn't think there was much else to get high on."

"There isn't." He muses, grinning to himself.

"Then what are you high on?"

"Nature."

I stop still. He reminds me of someone and I can't place who, it's slowly eating me inside.

"What are you high on, Frank Iero?" I look up, startled.

"Nothing."

"It must be horrible to be low."

"I'm not low-"

"You're not high, then what are you?" The tone he uses seems to be stuck in my head and I just can recall why.

"I don't know," I suck in a gasp of cold air, "I'm just middle I guess."

"I don't believe in middle. I don't believe in normal. You're either something or you’re not."

"Do you not believe in me then? I might as well be Frank Average Iero." I wish. I'm too different for my own good.

"No. You're not average. You're Frank." He walks off into a clearing and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to follow him or not, but I do so anyway, maybe because I'm curious, or maybe because I seem to have taken a weird liking to Gerard Way; I don't know, he's different.

-

He raises an eyebrow, leaned back against a tree as he pulls out a cigarette. I still can't forgive him for smoking those; pollution is horrible. "You followed me."

"Yeah, I did."

"I didn't ask you to."

"No, you didn't."

Moments pass in silence and he eventually passes me a cigarette which I in turn politely decline. He doesn't seem offended and just shrugs it off, popping the death stick back in the packet. Personally, I despise the things.

"You should be in school." He proclaims out of nowhere, glancing down at my mess of school uniform.

"And you didn't notice this before?" I raised one eyebrow, wondering if this was a ploy to get rid of me and if it was I was hardly surprised,

"No." He takes a drag of his cigarette, "I was noticing your personality."

"Uhm..." I push the creeped out expression off my face, "what did you notice then?"

"You... you're... unhappy. You don't want to live, this place seems to slow things down. You treat it like home, so you either don't have one or don't value it. What homeless person goes to school? You don't like anything really. Frank Iero you're unhappy."

"I wouldn't-"

"You're unhappy with what I've noticed," he's smirking stupidly because he's right and he knows it and I hate him.

"How old are you?" I'm curious.

"17." My age. He looks older. He could be lying. Why would he be lying?

"You should be in school too, you know?" I try to hide my smirk.

"No, no I shouldn't."

"Denying it isn't going to change anything."

"Fine." He stubs out his cigarette.

"You're temperamental."

"I've noticed. Anything else you'd like to label me? Psychotic, people usually go for that one-"

"Gerard!"

"Freakish, my mother's favourite. Murderous, my father's favourite. Gay? My brother's favourite. Mikey never was exactly that eloquent-"

"Brother." It slips out and I finally get it. Gerard stops and looks at me. "Mikey Way is your brother?"

"Yes, he is. Unfortunately."

"He beat me up today." I gesture to my bruises that Gerard has quite obviously ignored.

"I hope he enjoyed that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you want it to-"

I storm off. I'm done with Gerard Way and his riddles and his dickhead of a brother. My statement holds true, I hate Gerard Way.