Flip for Me

Gerard Way’s Point of View

I came into the gym to practice a few days later. Patrick was already there, as usual. I threw my duffel bag on the ground and sat down by it, eventually reclining and lying on the ground.

“Today won't be productive, will it?” Patrick asked, sitting on the small area of stands that I was lying against.

“Probably not. If I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” I told him.

“That’s nice. I'm going to laugh in your face if Frank Iero beats you again. Actually, no, I'm just going to laugh because he will beat you,” Patrick said.

“Fuck you, you're such a motivational speaker,” I said sarcastically.

“Gerard, get your ass up and do some splits or something,” he told me.

I sat up and did the splits.

“Happy?” I asked, staying in my position. Doing the splits was so incredibly easy for me.

“How are your balls not bleeding by now?” he asked.

“They're used to it,” I smirked, knowing that he’d think the answer was far too revealing.

“God Gerard, shut up. Just for that, I hope that you lose to Frank. He deserves it more,” Patrick told me, making my blood boil.

“Why do you have to be such a dick?” I asked.

“Whatever. Okay, new topic. Do you think that Frank Iero is gay?” Patrick asked, causing me to laugh wildly.

“I don’t get it. What's so funny?” he asked.

“Do you even need to ask that question? Isn’t it so obvious that he's gay?” I laughed.

“Not to me,” Patrick said.

“How can he not be? The guy has a pink duffel bag. He wears pink at some competitions sometimes, once he had pink highlights in his hair, and still you don’t think that he's gay?” I asked.

“Okay, now that you mention it, yeah it makes sense now. I guess I never paid attention and I'm your coach. I'm supposed to watch your competition. So, why are you constantly looking at Frank?” he questioned, smirking.

“What?” I practically laughed. “I don’t constantly look at him. When I do look at him, I try to blow him up with my mind, but it never works.”

I really have tried to blow him up before, but it apparently doesn’t work, which sucks. I could’ve won so many gold medals if it had worked. Maybe I could hire a guy… he could ‘get the job done’ and then I wouldn’t have to worry about Frank anymore. A year later, they’ll find his corpse horribly mutilated and barely identifiable. I might be interviewed for once instead of that midget and I can act sad that he died when really I was the cause of it. People will love me and I’ll be the one that people come to see. Hell yeah.

“Gerard, quit thinking about what life would be like if Frank was murdered,” Patrick said.

“How did you know that I was thinking that?” I asked him, quite surprised. I didn’t think he knew me that well.

“Because you're mumbling your thoughts like a god damn psycho. It’s weird, and it won't work. If Frank died, they'd love him even more and probably link you to his death and then you'll go to jail and get raped every day, but you'd like that wouldn’t you?”

I growled at him like a dog. He just laughed and patted me on the head. I bit his hand when he was about to pull back.

“You suck!” he exclaimed, holding his hand.

“No; I bite,” I smiled, showing my teeth.

He lightly smacked my cheek and we continued to talk throughout the rest of practice. I did small things on the floor as we talked, trying not to make practice completely useless, and later at night, I went home. I turned on the TV and there was an interview on that looked new and up to date. And, to make my night complete hell, they were interviewing Frank about the upcoming Regional’s competition.

“So, do you think that you'll beat Gerard Way and come out on top yet again?” the interviewer asked Frank. Frank smiled into the camera in a sly way.

“Well, I think as competitors, it’s rude to predict the outcome of something that you have so little control over, so I think it’s just a wait and see type thing. If I do happen to beat him, then good for me, I guess, but if he wins, then I’ll of course congratulate him,” Frank said.

What a fucking liar. He didn’t congratulate me when I won gold one time. He just stared at me from across the room. I was quite happy to know that I broke his toe then, no matter how childish it was. The interviewer asked Frank another question.

“What are your own personal opinions on Gerard Way?” the interviewer asked.

Frank seemed to be in deep thought for a moment, but quickly began to speak.

“I think that he's an amazing gymnast, really. I kind of look up to him in a way, even if we are the biggest rivals in the sport,” Frank said. “I mean, I think he's better than me.”

The interviewer nodded and smiled. How could Frank say that about me? I'm going to strangle him.

“So, do you believe that Gerard Way is even moderately… admirable?” the interviewer asked, trying to conceal a look of disgust.

“Oh fuck you,” I said to interviewer on TV.

“I really think he is!” Frank said enthusiastically. “He's never given up and that in itself is what makes him so… so wonderful,” Frank gushed.

He was just doing it for the fans. He wanted them to know that he ‘cared’ about people so that they'd continue on to care about him. Nobody ever interviews me anymore… not after the last time nearly four years ago.

”So Gerard, how do you feel about losing?” the reporter asked me as I tried to get to my car. I had just lost again to Frank fucking Iero. How does that kid beat me every time?

“Get lost,” I muttered angrily. I was in no mood.

“Mr. Way, do you think that Frank deserved to win? I mean, you didn’t seem to be putting forth your best effort out there. Frank was giving it his all,” the reporter said, still following me. Others were taking pictures of me, some recording what I was saying to this reporter, and even more people were trying to talk to me as well.

“I said get lost,” I said a bit louder this time.

“Mr. Way, Gerard, how do you feel about being a loser?” the same reporter asked.

I got fed up. I turned around and punched the guy as hard as I could in the nose. He stumbled back, blooding oozing out, and looked at me in shock. People stopped talking and looked. Those with cameras made it seem like you were at some strobe light convention by the amount of flashes that were going on. A week later, I got a letter saying that the guy was going to press charges on me. In the end, I was given two hundred hours of community service and banned from entering any competitions in gymnastics everywhere for five months. I thought it was unfair.

The interview on TV was over. I was relieved. I've been told that I have anger issues, which I'm now starting to believe, but hey, I'm a man. Just because I do a ‘girly’ sport, doesn’t make me any less of a man. Frank, however, was just a pussy. He wears effing mascara. If I were his Dad, I’d be so ashamed.