I Can Transform You

POV: Gerard

Frank was storming ahead, out of the school gates, and I was practically running to keep up with him.

“What was that all about?” I panted, out of breath from the fast pace. (I’m not very fit at all.) “Why did we have to leave so suddenly?”

“He pissed me off,” Frank retorted gruffly, not being very specific at all.

He’s always quite vague, actually… It’s irritating. It means I have to keep questioning him to get the answer I’m looking for, and he gets annoyed in the process.

I tried to keep my questions as limited as possible, and decided to take a wild guess.

“Matty?”

Okay, so it wasn’t such a wild guess. It was blatantly obvious that there was tension between Matty and Frank back there.

“Yeah. He thinks he can have a party and not fucking invite me?” Frank snapped, getting slightly more talkative and less vague in his frustrated state.

I opened my mouth to defend Matty (yes, I have a deathwish) and suggest that he just forgot to invite Frank, or he was probably going to invite him right after me. But Frank was all fired up and I didn’t get a chance to interject; he wouldn’t stop talking.

“I’m supposed to be his best friend, and he keeps fucking doing stuff like this to me,” he ranted, raising his voice to talk over the noise of traffic coming from the main road where we were walking on the sidewalk.

It seemed like their friendship is going through a rough patch… The infamous, terrible twosome were drifting apart…

“The other day I went round his house and found him and Lydia alone together, having a fucking party of their own,” he continued angrily.

Okay, that made my jaw drop.

Did Frank catch them in the act?

I actually managed to get a word into the conversation and voice my immediate thoughts: “What d'you mean? Were they having sex?”

Frank snapped his head in my direction and shot me daggers with his eyes.

“Do you really think if I caught them fucking me over like that I would still have anything to do with them?” he asked rhetorically, giving me an indirect answer that told me he hadn’t caught them that way.

“Well, what happened then?” I questioned, confused now.

“They were watching a film,” he revealed flatly, looking ahead while we walked again.

Is that it? THAT'S what he's throwing a bitch-fit over?

I continued to stare at him, now with a blank expression on my face.

“Wow, those fucking traitors..."

He shot me another death glare and retorted, “That’s not the point! The point is, they didn’t invite me! Why the fuck do they wanna see eachother outside of school without me? They’re not THAT close!”

He looked like he was genuinely looking for an answer, watching me with raised eyebrows. I wasn’t sure why he was asking me this, instead of Matty or Lydia, but I decided to give the two of them the benefit of the doubt.

“They’re just friends, Frank,” I shrugged, playing it cool, but inside my head I was just thinking how Matty and Lydia are totally shagging behind Frank’s back. It’s so obvious. Everyone knows Matty likes Lydia (except Frank, I guess). And well, Lydia’s a whore, so I wouldn’t be surprised.

New goal: break Frank and Lydia up by revealing her for the cheat she really is.vIt doesn’t have to be right away… But it has to be an exposure that she cannot deny and Frank cannot blame or get angry at me for...

“They never used to be that close,” he grunted resentfully in a low voice.

He’d clearly turned into a jealous bitch over this.

I remained silent, hoping that the conversation would die because I was losing interest in it.

We walked for almost two minutes without saying one word to eachother, and then I could see the shops at the end of long road ahead. We’d finally reached town.

“So, what are we getting here again?” I enquired, needing to remind myself exactly why I was in town with Frank Iero.

“You need clothes that I don’t get the urge to burn when I see you wearing them,” Frank replied bluntly.

I screwed my face up at him and shook my head, muttering “prick.” He ignored my facial expression, not looking at me once, but retorted “bitch” to my insult.

I smirked at his choice of comebacks. He seemed to be losing his quick-wit-Frank-Iero-touch.

***

“Right, try these on,” Frank instructed me, emerging from inside the circular clothes rack carrying various items of clothing.

He had a leather jacket for me, so I wouldn’t have to wear his anymore, and a number of shirts with subtle pictures on them. They were boring, in my eyes. I preferred my band t-shirts, but oh no, I wasn’t allowed to wear them. He also handed me a pair of black jeans that looked very small. I could see myself not fitting in them, actually.

“Okay,” I agreed, taking the clothes out of his arms and making my way to the changing room.

This whole experience was new and odd for me, not just for the fact that I was shopping with Frank, but the fact that I was shopping at all.

I'm not really the type to come to the high street and spend all my money on fashionable clothing... Anyone could see that by looking at me and the outfits I wear. They’re not in fashion, because I don’t give a shit about the latest trends.

However, it must be one of the ‘rules of popularity’ to follow trends because Frank is adamant to give me a style change.

There was a queue for the changing rooms, and I waited impatiently, tapping my foot and glancing over my shoulder to look for Frank every five seconds.

He was still rummaging through the clothes racks. I didn’t know whether he was still looking for stuff for me, or if he had moved onto himself. He’s a pro at shopping. He knows exactly what would suit him and anyone else. He’s like a girl. Or Gok Wan.

Eventually, I got to the front of the queue and was given a number for the changing room, which I dragged myself into. I was so not into this shopping business.

In the changing room, I tried on all the shirts Frank picked out for me, both with and without the jacket, and I was surprised to find that I didn’t actually mind them too much. They weren’t as interesting as the awesomely original and eye-catching shirts I’m used to wearing though… But then, nothing is.

I soon became frustrated with the mirror after spending too long looking into it. I couldn’t help thinking about how my vibrant and crazy shirts made me look weird, and that was the first thing people would think when they saw me, but in these plain, normal shirts, there was nothing to hide behind; I just looked fat and gross, especially in the jeans.

“Gerard?” Frank’s voice suddenly called from the other side of the curtain. “Are you in this one?” He stuck his foot under my curtain to show he was talking about the one I was in.

I pulled back the curtain slightly, revealing my face only. I was fully dressed, wearing a blue shirt Frank picked out, the leather jacket, and the skinny jeans, but I didn’t want him to see me. My self-esteem was stopping me. I looked bad.

He was stood there with his hands on his hips and an expectant look on his face.

“Let me see then,” he ordered impatiently.

WHY, God damn it?

“No, I don’t look good,” I mumbled self-consciously, refusing to come out from behind the curtain.

“I'm sure you do,” he disagreed readily.

Why would he be sure of that? It’s not like I ever look good any other time…

“Come on,” he insisted, and I could see that he was not going to take no for an answer, the stubborn bitch.

I sighed in defeat and drew back the curtain, revealing myself and my new style.

I felt even more self-conscious as his eyes wandered up and down my body, literally checking me out.

“I was right,” he declared, flashing me a rare smile. “Looking good, dude.”

Did he just - compliment me…? Oh dear God, what is he up to?

His eyes locked with mine briefly, and I could see in them that he was actually being genuine; he wasn’t lying or being sarcastic. He broke the contact a few times and dropped his gaze downwards, still checking me out.

Alright, quit it now… You’re making me uncomfortable.

“Uh… If you say so,” I frowned, quite surprised by his reaction. I was expecting him to say at least one negative thing. He never usually missed any chance to put me down.

“You should wear that to the party later,” he told me, finally tearing his eyes away and starting to walk away from me, out of the changing room to let me get changed back into my original clothes.

I decided I actually kinda liked that nice side to Frank... Huh, there was a side ot him that I didn't fucking hate? Weird.

I’m not sure if I should let myself start to like him. If he starts growing on me then I’ll start losing focus of my goals, and I can’t let that happen.

I’m putting myself through this torture for one reason only: revenge.