We're All Outcasts (Gerard Way/ MCR Fanfiction)

I'll Be The One Who Drives You Home Tonight

Gerard opened the door behind us.

"I heard 'coffee'... I guess Mikey's invited you back home?" He enquired.

I nodded enthusiastically.

"You've still lost your voice?" asked Gerard.

I grabbed a doodle pad from my bag and wrote:

"No, I haven't lost it. I've just temporarily misplaced it. :)"

That made everyone laugh.

"Do you want me to drive you all there? It'll save you walking."

"Thanks, Geebear! I'll make you a coffee when we get back."

"Deal. But don't call me Geebear again. If you do, you'll be waking up tomorrow with your dick chopped off and your mouth sewn shut."

"Whatever you say, Gee- Rex."

Gee- Rex... was it wrong of me to imagine Gerard as a dinosaur, trying to adjust his tie with arms that were slightly too short?

Gerard growled in annoyance. I wished I could talk because I would have loved to join in the conversation.

We all walked to Gerard's car as a group. Even though it wasn't just me, I still felt awkward. Very, very awkward. Come on, we were getting a lift from a teacher to their house.

"Stick your bags in the boot and get in the back. This is a complete rust bucket and I don't want any of you in the front because it's likely to blow up, not that I want to alarm any of you. I've only got this one because my convertible is being repaired after somebody hit it when it was parked. Don't bother with seatbelts - they jam and you'd need more than a seatbelt to save you while you're in this piece of scrap."

With that, he drove off.

"Oh, and I need to get petrol."

Mikey groaned.

"We'd have been better off if we were walking." he complained.

Gerard was right about the car being a rust bucket. It clattered down the road and acrid smoke was spewing out of the exhaust pipe; occasionally it would jolt dangerously when he shifted gear. The only thing it was good for was making you appreciate the life you had because in that deathtrap it might well have been cut short.

It was a relief to get to the petrol station. Frank, who had been clinging to my arm like some sort of limpet, had finally let go and I could move my arm again.

I tried again to speak - it came out as a croaky whisper.

"Ahh... I love the smell of petrol in the morning." I said. They laughed and I was glad they could understand me.

"Fucking hell, how long does it take to get petrol?"

"Wow, Mikey, take a chill pill!" interjected Frank.

"I'd happily take a pill right now if it wasn't illegal. I need caffeine!" he grouched.

Gerard finally came back with a bag in his hand.

"Here you go, kiddies."

He couldn't have sounded less enthusiastic as he threw the bag at us through the open window.

I couldn't help myself - I got a new page on my notepad and wrote:

"Just one kiddie here. He's the half in 'two and a half men'."

There was an arrow pointing to Frank. Gerard saw it in the mirror and smiled.

Frank saw what I had written, smirked and retorted: