Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

I had become completely distracted by the conversation we had to stare at the car going past us. I thought it would be like every other car and start speeding away after seeing my gang of screwed-up kids. Instead, it began slowing down and a slight worry began creeping up on me powered by my over-active imagination. I thought we were all about to get shot and mugged or something of the sort. Instead, through the opaque glass, I could see a hand suddenly strike out, (which supported my mugging theory slightly until I saw what it did) meeting the skin of the person in the passenger seat. I honestly couldn't judge anything, seeing as I didn't know if there was a good reason for slapping the person; still I didn't like it.

I couldn't focus much on the slap, seeing as at that precise moment, my younger brother, Mikey, made a joke at which my friends began laughing uproariously at. I had no choice but to laugh along, though my attention was still focused on the car which had, by now, stopped right next to the curb. Faintly, I could hear the yells coming from the car in the still New Jersey air, making me wish I could simply shut off the volume. All of a sudden, the car door banged open with an angry burst of screams. "You're no son of mine!" was the yell I heard, chilling me to the bone.

And with the yell and the bang of the car door, silence spread around us. A scrawny kid with tight jeans, black-lined eyes and a Misfits shirt stumbled out onto the street, his green eyes brimming over with what seemed to be anger and tears. The door slammed shut and the car sped away; his look was that of pure shock, his mouth hanging open, his hands shaking at his sides. Our laughter had long ceased and we simply stared at him as he let loose a yell, stomping his foot on the ground.

"You okay, kid?" I asked, though I'm not sure what could have possibly possessed me to ask such a thing. Obviously surprised, he spun around, a pale rose color tingeing his cheeks, flushing them. For an instant, I wished I had my sketchbook along, simply so I could have captured the look on his face.

"Y-Yeah," he muttered, looking down at the ground and kicking a pebble away from his Converse-laden feet, his entire demeanor awkward. Shrugging, though everything about him worried me, I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket, taking one out and delicately placing it between my lips. Next, I pulled out a lighter, dropping the carton onto my lap in order to light my cig. Contentedly taking a drag, my eyes drifted to the boy in front of me.

"Want one?" I asked, curious; he didn't seem like the type to smoke but it was only polite. He looked up and nodded eagerly before balking, shaking his head slightly.

"No, that's okay," he muttered, his hand going to his pocket though it was obvious there was nothing there.

"C'mon; we don't mind," my brother piped up, though he didn't smoke; he just wanted to get rid of my cigs faster. Surprisingly, though, I wouldn't mind giving away the entire carton to this boy; he seemed to need it more than I did. "Wait," Mikey suddenly muttered, scratching at his chin, "You look real familiar." The boy swallowed hard, retracting the hand that had reached for the fag I was offering. Frustrated by now at the manners he was showing, I got up from my position against the wall, placing the cig in his hand along with my lighter. He wasted nary a moment before he was already taking a puff, filling his lungs with glorious nicotine.

"I got it!" Mikey suddenly yelled and I turned to glare at him, having been so startled. I wasn't the only one surprised by my brother's outburst, though; the boy jumped back, wincing as though he had suddenly been slapped. "Sorry; anyways, aren't you in my Music class or something? I think I've seen you there; guitar, right?"

The boy grinned, his lip ring flashing bright silver in the sunlight, "Yeah. I knew I'd seen you too. I think you play the bass or something. Yeah, I remember you."

"Now that you two have had this precious moment," I interjected, "I'd like to know your name before I get more confused. You obviously know my brother, Mikey but I still don't know you and I'd like to if this is going to continue any further."

"The name's Frank," he muttered, lowering his eyesight to the ground, "Frank Iero." I nodded appreciating.

"I like that name."

"Thanks," he flashed me a smile. "What's your name?"

"Gerard Way, though I also go by Gee, Gee-tard, dumb-ass and 'hey, you'. I'd prefer you call me Gee, though," I said quickly, giving him a handshake, ignoring that he still held my lighter in that hand. In a deft movement, I took it back, placing it in my pocket with a grin stretching my lips. "And that's Bob and that's Ray," I added, taking a short drag of my cigarette, exhaling the smoke as I talked. He smiled, scratching at the back of his neck and muttering a quick greeting. After they had exchanged pleasantries, I got back to whatever it is I focus on. "You like the Misfits?"

"Oh, definitely. My favorite song's got to be Astro Zombies. That song's the shit." His eyes glinted happily, obviously more comfortable now that we had breached familiar territory. I couldn't help but agree as enthusiastically as he had spoken; it just so happened that was my favorite song as well.

"What other bands do you like?" I asked curiously, a smile playing on my lips.

"Oh, damn. Well, you've got Black Flag, The Cure, Iron Maiden, Morrissey, Sonic Youth, Bouncing Souls, David Bowie, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, the Get Up Kids; I could go on and on." The words were a single, powerful slap to the face; this kid had a lot in common with me.

"Fuck yeah, dude. You ever heard Nervous Breakdown or Stay Gold, Ponyboy?"

"Are you kidding? Those songs changed my life." We continued on with the mindless chatter on music and I could somehow sense the glances Bob, Ray and Mikey were exchanging along with the murmurs.

"Hey, why don't you come over to our house, check out my CDs and shit?" I asked, wrapped up as I was with the way the conversation was headed. The smile faltered slightly and he hastily brought his forgotten cancer stick to his lips, taking a long drag though it seemed to irritate his throat, causing him to cough. Then, with determination setting into his features, he nodded.

"Sure, why not?" A smile crept back onto his face, twisting the corner of his lips. I couldn't help but wonder if it was payback in a slight way. I turned back to my friends for a brief moment.

"You guys coming along?"

"Gee, we were kinda going to go to Barnes and Noble. I thought you wanted to come..." Ray said, trailing off, tilting his head to the side.

"You wanna go to Barnes and Noble?" I asked Frank eagerly, "Or would you rather spend a glorious afternoon with me?" Though it was rather rude of me, I continued without awaiting an answer, "Well, I guess it's settled. He's much rather spend it with me that with you geeks at Barnes and Noble." I pretended to act all haughty, sauntering away like a girl, making sure to swish my hips. Thankfully, they all laughed, including the newcomer and agreed that they'd meet me at my house later on. "C'mon Frank; let's leave these losers." I turned back to face him, the grin on my face letting him know it was all just a joke. He nodded, looking back at my friends, lingering on my brother. I felt a brief flare of anger rise in me but he merely waved, running in order to catch up with me.

He remained in silence, however, letting his finished fag fall to the floor, grinding it beneath the sole of his shoe. I copied his movements before continuing my walk, waiting for him to simply follow me. He seemed nervous, even after the cigarette, and I had to admit, it worried me slightly. "So, uh...what happened with the car and the yells and the...um, yeah, that?" I couldn't help asking, though I sorely wished I wasn't such a curious bastard; I didn't want to alienate such a boy before I even got to know him well. He let loose a wry laugh, though, that didn't seem to suit him, lowering his head to the ground, obviously avoiding my steady gaze.

"I kind of...well, you see," he paused, obviously uncertain as to how to best phrase what had occurred. Of course, reluctance plays a role in such things; he probably wasn't sure if he should even say such a thing to me. Though I had only known him a few minutes, it hurt slightly to think he would keep stuff from me. A sigh dropped from between the soft, pale lips of his, "I stole a pack of cigarettes, got caught, almost got arrested and pissed off my mother. Happy?" I shook my head, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Not really; is your mother always like that?"

"Listen Gerard; this really isn't your business." I should've known that would've come; I'm really too nosy for my own good. I'm surprised my actual nose isn't long with the way I keep sticking it in stuff that doesn't concern me. "But whatever; yeah, she tends to be like that a lot. I was surprised she hadn't done something earlier." That was a surprise. I thought he would have abandoned me almost immediately for my questions. People tend to do that when they become uncomfortable with the inquisition I tend to unload on them. We lapsed into a silence, both of us staring down at our feet as they carried us onwards down this cracked, broken street.

"Well, I guess we're here," I finally muttered, looking up to face my house. Honestly, I wasn't incredibly proud of it, shame and guilt rising through my body. There were weeds growing all through the yard, sticking close to the grimy pale-brown walls, mud streaking the concrete. Scratches littered the walls caused by many drunken journeys home and anger-filled punches; the wall usually won in those. The hinges holding the screen door were corroding, rust streaking the edge of the actual metal. I bustled him along, no longer able to have him staring at the dingy building I lived in; it just seemed wrong but he didn't seem to mind at all.

Passing the foyer, we entered the house itself. At least it was better here; there was no dust accumulated on the tables. Thankfully my mom had managed to clean and tidy up before I arrived. Sometimes, I swear, that woman has psychic powers or something. She's just amazing; she seems to know everything. However, we didn't linger in the hallway much; I grabbed Frank's wrist and pulled him behind me towards the basement. Confusion riddled his features, reflecting itself in his eyes.

"Oh," I chuckled, a happy smile on my face now, "I forced my mom to let me move down into the basement; there's a hell of a lot more room down there for all my shit. Just wait." He now followed more willingly, bounding down the stairs. Though I still gripped at his wrist he didn't pull away, simply matching my pace. Finally, we had reached my cluttered room and I let go, placing my hands on my hips. "Welcome to my mess of a room," I grinned, turning around to face him. His mouth hung open, his eyes sparkling, even in the dim light. He was fucking beautiful. Oh wait, what am I thinking?

"Whoa," he murmured, his jaw still hanging, his eyes still glinting in awe and happiness. "Did I just fall into like a crazy-ass dream or something?" I snorted, trying to suppress my laughter; needless to say, I failed at it. I began laughing and he closed his mouth, swallowing hard.

"Oh, man. You think this is a dream? I'm sorry, but you ain't seen nothing yet."