Medicate Your Lives (Frerard)

Chapter Two: Gerard

Silence was good.

I wondered why Frank seemed so bitter. To state the obvious, we'd both been shoved in a locker and it was extremely uncomfortable, not to mention awkward, but it seemed that he acted that way all the time. In the classes we had together, he always kept his hood up, his head down, and never spoke to anyone. He seemed to have good taste in music, judging by the patches on his backpack, and I tried to be friendly, but he shoved me away each time. I was probably bothering him. He didn't want to talk to me for a reason -- was I annoying? Ugly? Was he embarrassed to be around me? 

Maybe silence wasn't the best thing.

We continued walking in the miserable silence. I eventually pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my bag and lighted one, placing it in my mouth. Frank turned and raised an eyebrow at me. He was probably questioning my "breathing problems", and I felt the need to explain.

"I wasn't lying, you know." 

Frank said 'sure' in a way that made me feel as if he didn't believe me. 

"Really, I do have a problem, it's just... an addiction. I can't stop."

He still didn't believe me.

"Could you stop? If you wanted to?"

Frank pondered this for a moment, then shook his head slowly. He threw his finished cigarette onto the ground and crushed it with his foot. It pained me — that counted as littering. We were slowly destroying the earth.

I checked my phone.

No new messages.

I had expected a text from my mom, at least. 

I knew that she was trying to get a job to help support us. My dad worked all day and occasionally into the night, but it didn’t pay too well. We had moved here over the summer because he thought that this new job would pay more money and that he would have more opportunities for promotions.

He didn’t.

 Over the summer, I had mainly stayed inside, not daring to try to explore the town while people weren’t working or at school. I knew that I didn’t live in the most dangerous area of the town, but it still wasn’t the best idea. My mom had warned me as soon as we moved in. Don’t talk to anyone suspicious, she had said, and don’t you dare get involved with gangs, or else you’ll go the way of your uncle. He had been killed before I was born by a different gang. That’s all my parents would tell me — I guess they didn’t want me getting mixed up in it. I had replied with the usual yes, Ma in an exasperated tone of voice, but to be honest, her warning had scared me. Was it really that bad around here?

I was glad that I had met Frank, despite his bitterness. I had some friends in my old town, but only because I had known them since first grade. It was just natural to stay friends with them. It was a small school and everyone knew each other. I never really fit in, but no one hated me. Here, people seemed to not like me. Okay, it didn’t ‘seem’ that way, I knew they didn’t like me. I didn’t know why. 

I felt something burn my fingers and quickly dropped it. My cigarette had burned down completely without me noticing. I reached down to pick it up and throw it away. Frank smirked at me. 

“You’re a freak,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was joking.

We had reached the center of town. Frank stopped.

“Bye,” he mumbled. I recognized the obvious dismissal. I crossed the street, hoping to see what sort of stores there were. I could see Frank entering a music store I would have loved to explore, but I didn’t want him to think I was following him. I ended up simply walking down the street, eventually reaching a park. There was a rather sad looking swing set, but I can’t resist swings, so I went and sat down. A woman who was there with a child no older than four looked at me suspiciously, and I realized how I must look. Black jeans, a ratty t-shirt (also black, I realized once I looked down), and an oversized army-green jacket. I smiled, trying to look friendly, but she must have thought that I was too suspicious. She took the child’s hand and led her away from the park quickly. I watched them go, the child’s curly mane bouncing along as they walked down the street until they turned a corner and I could no longer see them.

I sighed.

I loved kids. 

I pathetically kicked at the dirt, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn’t sit here all day. It looked like it was going to rain.

I sat, simply thinking, until I heard footsteps. 

“Hey,” I heard someone snap.

I looked up and saw a pair of hazel eyes glaring back at me.

He snapped. "What the hell are you doing here?"