Flip for Me

Gerard Way’s Point of View

I left the gym in a fury. I swear if murder was one hundred percent legal, Frank would be six feet under by now.

“Aww, come on Gerard!” I heard Patrick call after me. “You still did an excellent job!”

“Well it wasn’t good enough!” I screamed at him.

I ran to my car, wiping at my eyes violently. I didn’t want anyone to see me crying. I drove away before Patrick or paparazzi could get to me. Like I've done after nearly every meet, I drove to Panda Express in hopes of eating away my pain. Some people cut themselves, some cry, some even see therapists, and then others eat, like I do to make the pain “go away”. It never does. I can still feel it after I've forked through pounds of food, but it takes my mind off of things.

I got in line and stood there for nearly fifteen minutes. I didn’t know why this place was always so crowded. There were only two more people before me when I felt someone tap my back. I turned around and came face to face with none other than Frank.

“What do you want?” I asked rudely. “And fuck, you're stalking me now?”

He laughed.

“I promise you I'm not stalking you. I really, really did mean what I said to you earlier. You are an amazing gymnast Gerard,” he smiled.

“Why do I not believe you?” I muttered rhetorically.

“Gerard,” he sighed, putting his hand on my arm. I stared at it as he spoke to me. “I'm not trying to trick you or anything, seriously. I have no need to hurt you.”

“Hello, may I take your order tonight, sir?” the man at the register asked me.

I ordered some vegetarian meal; if I eat meat after any form of workout session, including meets, I always throw up. It’s very gross.

“I’ll have the same,” Frank grinned. He rang up two of the same dish and put it on one bill. I didn’t even care about paying for his food; I just wanted to go home.

I dug around for my wallet for a good minute until I realized that I left it in my gym bag which is in the backseat of my car.

“Damn it,” I sighed. I think it was safe to say that today just sucked.

“Don’t fret; I got it,” Frank beamed, handing the guy his credit card.

“Um, thanks,” I told him uncomfortably.

“No problem at all,” he replied, still smiling. That was getting annoying quickly. How can one person possibly be so happy all the time?

People love him and he just kicked your sorry ass at the only sport that you can do.

Oh yeah…

We eventually got our food to go and I muttered a thank you and went to my car. Unfortunately, he followed me. I got in my car, trying not to pay him any mind and closed the door. He was standing by my door giving me that overused, pathetic hurt-puppy look. I turned on my car and rolled down the window.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Only if you'd like. You see, I kind of got a cab to follow you here because there were too many people crowding my car, and now I sorta need a ride home, if you don’t mind that is,” he said, not making eye contact with me.

“And what if I do mind?” I asked. I was being far too rude to a person that just bought me dinner. He even asked for extra soy sauce, something I forgot to ask for because I was a bit too overwhelmed. Ah, what the hell.

“Get in the car Iero,” I said, rolling the window back up. He looked at me and a wave of gayness seemed to wash over him. He hopped up and down in his spot. I started the car and moved up like three inches, making him stop immediately and get in the car. I snickered to myself.

“Sorry, I'm just surprised you're taking me home. You really seem to hate me,” he said as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Yeah, well, I kinda do.”

We didn’t exchange anymore words – except for Frank giving me the directions to his house. It was surprisingly really easy to find.

“Thank you so much for taking me home,” he said. “Do you wanna come in?”

“No thanks; I gotta get home,” I said, sounding like I had a heart for once in my life.

“Well, maybe one day you can,” he said.

“Not in your life,” I smiled. Without saying another word, I went home and ate my food.