Come On Angel, Don't You Cry

Chapter 2: Hells on Earth

I walk to with American Idiot blaring through the earbuds that are occupying my ears with their presence. Ignoring the strange stares that always get thrown at me when I walk to school. Normally I would take the beat-up piece of shit my mom dares to call a car so I can avoid as much human contact as possible. Although today was different, I actually felt like walking today seeing as to it was cool for September but yet still sunny enough out. Overall today was a nice day.

I slip through the large doorway that marks the entrance of the school and head straight to my locker, trying not to bring attention upon myself. The locker I often got shoved into stood before me. I would always have to wait for a 'kind' soul who has heard pleas to be released from the claustrophobia inducing space and actually decides that the coast is clear enough to help the short outcast without having their reputation damaged too badly.

Surprisingly today I pass through to last block going amazingly unnoticed. So as I sit boredly doodling on what is supposed to be my homework and waiting for the end of my day at the hell on Earth we so graciously call school, ignore the history teacher who is droning on and on about some war in 1812.

As the bell rings I rush out of the many doors, smiling to myself with a plan that I'm anxious to execute. I plan on breaking into my neighbor's house. I noticed he was gone as I left for school this morning and I'm hoping he will still be out when I get back. Or else there may be a small kink in my plan.

I turn down Cemetery Drive with a very pleasant surprise sitting around the corner.

HE WAS GONE!! YES!! I mean do you have better way to find out about the guy than going into his house? You can really tell a lot about a person by looking at the items they decide to keep in their house.

I act as though I'm ignoring not only his house but the entire world as I walk down the sidewalk and turn onto the stairs that lead to the porch of my house. Instead of going straight upstairs to my room, I walk all the way through the house and to the back door. I take a deep breathe before letting my converts clad feet land on the soft, green blades of grass.

'Am I really doing this?' I ask myself. I nod and continue walking toward the short whitewash fence that separates the 2 houses.

I look around and make sure no one is looking before I throw myself over and into the mans yard. I check the backdoor and of course its locked and I refuse to be seen trying the front especially since he is not home at the moment. I see no windows that would be low enough for my 5'4" frame to clamber through so I opt to climb up a tree and into a second story window.

I grab the shortest branch, which is barely low enough for me to hoist myself up but I manage and ones I do so I allow myself a minute to get situated and then continue on. I get to the window just as the adrenaline rush kicks in and see that it is the same bedroom I can see from the window in my room. I open the window easily since it has no lock and slip through onto the dresser underneath.

Finally, I find myself on the floor and walk over go the bad I saw him sprawled out on the day before and take in how it no longer looks neat but now looks dishevelled like he woke up late for something. I sit down on said bed and take in the otherwise neat room. The band posters and sweatshirts neatly hung up show that we share a similar musical taste. Blink, Green Day, The Misfits, The Killers, The Used, etc. After happily taking in this fact I decide to move on hoping I will be able to get to the rest of the house before he gets back.

I decide to go downstairs and find myself in the kitchen. I look around so I can memorize the lay out for if I ever am in here with him. Legally. I see on the kitchen table is the mail he must have received over the past 3 days. Excited to finally put a name to the man who nearly dream fucked me last night.

Gerard. Gerard Way. Hmm, unique. You don't usually hear that name much anymore. I got stuck with the fucking name Frank. So fucking common.

But again, I digress.

I put down the envelope and walk to the living room where I find a large flat screen with man cases on each side. Both organized alphabetically. On the right is an array of horror movies with the occasional chick-flick. Which I chuckle at. And on the left is a diverse selection of video games. Smiling, I move on before the urge to plop down and play Call Of Duty.

I go back upstairs and head toward the room to the right of the bedroom. I examine what seems to be an art room and I stare awestruck at the artwork hung on the walls and strewn across the desk in the corner. All of it is beautiful, some deep, some dark and some with a slightly gory edge. My favorite was one that depicted 2 people. A man and a woman, eyes closed leaning into a kiss but their faces are splattered with blood. He is really talented when it comes to art. I suspect all this is why he rarely leaves his home. Maybe he just can't leave until something is perfect. And maybe he stays away from people because he's afraid of reticule.

As I stare at the painting, holding it in my hands and running my fingers lightly over the dried brush strokes, I come up with those theories about him. Gerard Way. He is extremely mysterious and I love learning his secrets. But just as I start to run my fingers over the woman's hair I hear the front door close and as my eyes go wide I sit down the painting and realize that I never had an escape plan. I expect that I would be in and out in a flash. I walk quickly over to the window see into that I could jump without risking a  broken leg which would give me away and just as I decide to sneak to the bedroom, I turn around knock over an easel that held a painting of a woman in a vintage dress wearing a gas mask.

"Mikey?! I thought you would've learned to call first after what happened last time. I swear you should've seen the look on you face when I ran up with that knife" He laughs as he walks up the stairs. We there goes my chances at maybe seeming normal to him. I'll just be that kid that broke in now. I turn around seeing if there is anywhere to hide until I hear- "Who the fuck are you?! Why the hell are you in my fucking house?!" FUCK! I'm caught. I can't just tell him why I'm here, can I?

Deciding against it, I try to run but seeing as to how he is about 5 inches taller than me and was most likely expecting me to try something along the lines of running he grabs my shoulders and pulls me closer so it is harder for me to get away.

"Who the fuck are you?!" He snarls through gritted teeth as he pulls me closer and gets in my face.

"Frank. Frank Iero." I say just before I smash my lips hard against his soft yet slightly chapped lips. I just couldn't help myself. We were to close for it not to happen.