Medicate Your Lives (Frerard)

Chapter One: Frank

Into the locker that I had so kindly been locked in, was pushed a very startled, not to mention very confused, Gerard Way.

The new kid.

I had known instantly that everyone would despise him, with his black hair, oversized jacket, and skinny jeans. And I had been right. I'm always right. Always have been, always will be.

He had stumbled into my first hour five minutes late, handing a note to the teacher. The teacher shook his head and directed him towards a desk near mine. After watching him doodle on his notebook for the majority of the hour, I made the conclusion that everything about him would be unwelcome at this school. Teenagers who draw comic book characters are never considered a good thing around here.

I was snapped away from my thoughts by Gerard bumping into me, trying to get more comfortable.

From the weak light shining through the slanted slats of the locker door, I could see a pale face stained by a bruise on the cheek that was quickly turning a nasty shade of purple. The shallow breathing and shaking hands told me that this was new to him. After about ten seconds, he realized that he was not alone in the now very cramped locker.
"Oh. hello," he said quietly with a nervous laugh. "This is a rather small space."

I didn't answer. Thanks for stating the obvious, kid. I was dying for a cigarette, but I didn't dare take out my lighter in these conditions, where I could easily light Gerard's or, more importantly, my hair on fire.

Gerard let out a little cough. I glared at him and he seemed to shrink back, but still tried to make conversation.

"I'm Gerard," he said.

"I know," I replied. Silence. He reached up to touch his face, elbowing me in the process. "Watch it," I snapped, but my gaze softened a bit as I saw that his lip was bleeding. "Here," I dug in my pocket, pulled out a pack of tissues, and handed it to him. He took it gratefully.

"Thanks," he muttered. More silence. "Shouldn't we, you know, do something?" Gerard asked, attempting to breathe deeply.

I shrugged. "There's not much to do, unless a janitor passes by." Gerard made a panicked noise, followed by more deep breathing.

"You okay?" I asked in a bitter tone of voice.

"I just have some... Breathing problems. Standing for too long isn't a good idea for me."

Fantastic, now I felt guilty.

After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, I heard something being rolled down the hall -- it sounded like the rolling trash cans that janitors use. I immediately began pounding on the locker door.

"Hello?" Came a voice from directly outside the locker. I recognized it as the voice of one of the school janitors.

"I'm Frank Iero, I was shoved in here by some people on a dare." Gerard looked at me as if I was insane, but I refused to give the idiots the satisfaction of knowing that I went crying to the janitor. Telling the janitor what happened might as well be a death sentence -- I would get pummeled so hard the next day that I wouldn't be able to walk for a week.

The sounds of keys jingling and one unlocking the locker brought a smile to Gerard's face. How naïve, he thought his troubles were over. Far from it, kid.

The door opened and I jumped out, thanking the janitor. He sternly told me not to agree to "this sort of thing" again before walking away. Gerard slowly climbed out after me.

"Hey, thanks -"

But I was already halfway down the hall. I could hear him jogging after me.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Why should I tell you?"

He stopped, taken aback. "Well, I - hey, wait!" I had continued walking. "Look, I just want to know who you are."

Having finally reached the door leading outside, I turned around. "I'm Frank. Goodbye." I pushed the door open and walked out. In the sunlight, I could see just how bad Gerard's injuries were. I finally stopped.

"Why'd they beat you up?" I asked, trying not to make it seem like I was too interested. Gerard looked surprised that I had said anything. He reached up to touch his face again, hands still shaking.

"I was drawing at the picnic tables this morning, and they came over in a gang. Asked me what I was drawing, then tried to rip up my sketch book." He pulled a book that had obviously seen better days out of his small messenger bag.

"Yeah. They hate anyone who looks or acts any different." I started walking down the street. A few steps later, Gerard spoke up again.

"Are you ditching school?" He asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I could hear his footsteps following behind me. "And my name is Frank. Didn't you hear me talking to the janitor?"

He pondered this for a moment.

"So where are we going?" He caught up with me.

"Shut up, kid."

I took out a cigarette and placed it in my mouth. Lighting it, I took a drag and blew out a cloud of the deadly smoke.

We walked in silence.