My Harlequin Romance (MCR Fan Fiction)

Chapter Four

I guess, all in all, it was a pretty good day. I think I made a new friend. I'm still not sure how I feel about Gerard though. It takes so much to gain my trust.

The wind whistled above my head. Walking home wasn't nearly as lonely with Gerard here now. I've forgotten how fun talking can be. As we walked down the weathered sidewalk in the low income, government owned part of town, I let Gerard talk basically to himself. Although some of the houses were utterly terrifying, Gerard lived in the better areas of town, but that's not saying much for Belleview. He seemed content with his one-sided venting conversation. I walked beside him, mostly listening and rarely speaking.

"I can't fucking stand them," he repeated for about the hundredth time. This was the basis of the conversation- "F" word, jocks, bullies, art and repeat. Turns out Gerard had the same ideas and concepts of the mediocrity of high school as I did. "Those jocks think they run the school."

"Because they do," I intervened, as we turned a corner. Gerard adjusted his jacket and put his hands in his pockets. I could tell he was thinking the same thing, but he really didn't want to admit it.

"It's not like that in the real world," he said, but then stopped walking. I sighed, then turned around. "I just realized something. Do you even want to go to my house?"

I paused for a minute and pursed my lips. Did I honestly? The idea invigorated and terrified me at the same time. I literally just met him yesterday. A part of me cringed at the idea. He could be a rapist or molester or something. But, I can't live my whole life friendless and in fear. The naive section of my brain began churning, and after a few seconds, I was certain.

"Yeah," I replied after a few seconds, and continued walking. Gerard proceeded with his one-sided conversation as we turned up the road I had been on twenty-four hours ago. It seemed like nothing had changed. Same dying, yellow grass that carpeted the Way's front lawn. Same white, dented mailbox. As I scanned over the content looking house, I noticed one detail out of place before Gerard. Seconds later, I heard him gasp.That's when Gerard noticed the shattered window on his house.

"Gerard, wait," I said, as he hurried up to the front door. The last thing that I would have recommended would have been, "Go inside, Gerard! There might be a killer or a cracked-out drug dealer or something, but go on in!" I had no choice but to closely follow him into his home. Gerard threw open the doorway violently, barely giving me time to squeeze in.

"Mikey?" Gerard yelled throughout the house. There wasn't any response. "He must not be home." Then, like his little brother was his only concern, Gerard then calmly crouched on the ground by the jagged glass, and shifted his hand through it. I crouched beside him, and watched with inquisitive eyes. Gerard then clasped his hand around a large, rigid brick in the center of the wreckage. "We hate fags" was crudely spray painted on the side in black paint. Gerard's lip twitched as he looked over the square brick. Then, without any sort of warning, he threw it as hard as he could across the house. It smashed into a cabinet, breaking the paneling into splintering pieces. The young man who had seemed so childlike earlier had just became a violent bombshell right before my eyes. Was this the kind of person I wanted to be friends with? The kind of person who can go from sky high to suicidal in seconds? The kind of person who shatters cabinets with one skilled throw? Was this what I wanted?

I watched in horror as another disastrous mood swing took him from rage to depression. Gerard collapsed to the floor, sobbing. "Why would they do this? I've never done a god-damn thing to them," the young man clasped his hands over his eyes. I wasn't sure what to do. When kids would cry at the orphanage, Mrs. Norris would usually sit by them and hug them and stuff. I'm not one for physical affection, but... maybe I could calm him down. Words have always been my weakness. I've never been exceptionally good at communicating except through art. Speech has always been a fault of mine. I've been known to muck up important occasions by my careless words and accusations. I always leave the talking to someone else. Although, as I watched him shake from anger and confusion, I knew I had to do something. Nobody was here to help him, and really, that's all he needs. Help.

Cautiously, I sat down beside him, putting a good six inches in between us. "They just don't understand," I drolled, not knowing what exactly to say. I was pulling these words basically out of the air. So far, so good. He was still shaking, but, from what I could see, he wasn't crying, so I went on. "One day, you'll be successful... or something... and they'll be working for you."

Gerard wiped his nose on his sleeve, and I instantly felt a hundred times worse. "So he had been crying," I thought. I've never really seen anyone cry before. He looked at me with deep red eyes. "Don't understand? They understand better than I do. Clearly, I'm worthless."

I felt so helpless. I wasn't helping. If anything, I was just making him worse. A ball of sadness grew in my throat, and I suppressed harsh tears. I can't cry. I never cry. "N-No, you're not."

He didn't respond. Gerard kept his head hidden, small sniffling sounds coming from under his jacket. If I knew how to, I would have really comforted Gerard, but I had literally no idea what to do. It was a weird few minutes for me. Finally, Gerard stopped crying. He looked over at me and sniffed his nose. "It's this kind of stuff," he muttered, "That breaks me. My stupid medication can't handle this much stress." Before I could speak, a car door slammed outside. Gerard suddenly jumped, then pulled me to my feet. "Shit! My parents weren't supposed to home till five," he cursed, "You can't be here! Quick! Hide in my room!" Before I even knew what was happening, Gerard was shoving me into a small, black bedroom and slamming the door.

My brain was still whizzing when he left. What the heck had just happened? I took the moment to identify the situation. Okay, I'm standing in the middle of a sixteen year old guy's room. Yes, yes, that much I had figured out. I looked around me. You know, I've always been curious what a guy's room looks like, and it's not impressive as I thought. A few posters of comic books and horror movies covered some of the corroded, grey walls. Two beds sat squatly a few feet apart. One was grey and one was black. A very well-drawn batman portrait was hanging above the black bed. I immediately recognized that as Gerard's style, which could only mean that was Gerard's bed.

Gerard's bed.

The place he sleeps. I feel my forehead crease in mild disgust as my mind wanders farther. Stupid over analyzing brain. I turn my head away and scan the rest of the room. That's when I notice the guitar in the corner. "Could that be Gerard's?" I wondered absently. He seemed way more artsy than musical. I walked over to the guitar, and looked at it closer. The sleek, dark frame and strings were a lot nicer than much of the stuff I've seen in this part of town. I studied the guitar for a minute before moving on to the shelf beside the guitar. On it, were vast assortments of comic books and action figures. I smiled as I looked across them. A curious batman figurine caught my attention. I held it in my hands for a minute, looking across the sleek plastic design. I don't really know why  it really caught my attention, but I really, really liked it.

It was about that time I heard noises outside the door. Without thinking, I slipped the figure into my bag, and zipped it shut tightly.

"It's my room too, Gerard," I heard a high-pitched voice yell closely outside the door.

"Too bad," Gerard responded quickly, "Just.... stay out here for a minute." Before the door was fully opened, I hurried away from the guitar. Gerard barely cracked the door and slid in as Mikey continually complained from outside the door. He looked at me as he clicked the lock. "It was just Mikey, but he's not trustworthy," Gerard whispered, walking over to a window, "He would squeal in a minute."

"Are you not fond of your brother?" I pondered quietly, following him over to the window.

Gerard smiled a little, as he opened the large, glass frame. "He's my brother," he began, "Of course, I'm fond of him." The cool wind came in through the window. It tossled Gerard's hair a little before he stepped back and ran his hands through his long, black hair. "Well, here's your exit," he said, "Sorry you had to leave in a very unconventional way."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sorry you were vandilized," I muttered, not sure of what to say. Gerard's eyebrow twitched, and he sighed.

"It doesn't matter," he looked away quickly. I stepped through the window, and then looked back at my new friend.

"Actually, it does, because that shit shouldn't happen to anyone," I said, catching Gerard's attention. "It can't stay this bad forever," I continued, provoking a smile on Gerard's face.

"One can only dream, Lola," the young man said with a distant smile on his face as he shut the window and disappeared. I felt myself begin to smile as I strolled away from the house. It wasn't until I was almost home, when I noticed the batman action figure still in my backpack. I decided to keep it as a souvenir.