Common People

Gerard had never felt so out of place in his entire life. He wanted to just go, but he’d feel guilty if he did. Mikey had been the happiest Gerard had ever seen him when he’d agreed to go this party. His hermit brother was finally stepping outside of the house for reasons other than buying more cigarettes or arty shit.

Even though Gerard was pretty sure that nobody had even looked at him once they entire time he’d been here, he still felt like he’d received countless pissed off glares, feeling awkward in his usual baggy, layered black attire. Gerard hadn’t even wanted to come to this party. He just didn’t do crappy house parties full of cheap, warm bear and drunken teenagers doing drugs and getting each other off.

Gerard had never been exposed to this kind of thing before. He went to a private school where they had to wear ugly uniforms and got extra homework and the rules were ridiculous and it just sucked, OK? He stayed in his room and got wasted on his own and chain smoked and would paint whatever fucked up things came into his head. He sometimes took a few pills or whatever if he was with his friends, but that was the closest thing he’d come to drugs.

He never dappled in the heavier shit like coke. It was clear that some of the kids here tonight were as high as a kite from coke, bouncing round with pupils the size of saucers. He felt uncomfortable and he knew he shouldn’t be here.

These kids went to the rough, grotty schools downtown - when they even bothered going that is - and lived on council estates. Gerard would happily bet that none of them knew their dads and their mothers were popping out a new baby every year to another random guy, had no job and were off their heads of drugs most of the time. The people at this party tonight were the kind of kids who got sent to prison before they were even twenty one and the girls here probably already had two kids back at home.

Gerard had pretty much been glued to the shadows in the kitchen all night, moodily staring down at his foul tasting beer and avoiding everyone. He eventually got an itch for nicotine and shrugged off of the wall and made his way towards the back door that led out into the garden.

There were a few people outside, glowing cherries lighting up the dim sky around them. Gerard shuffled over towards the patchy brown grass and sat down underneath a huge skeletal tree, peering up at the creepy branches above him.

This was much better than being inside that house with the shitty music and wasted teenagers grinding against each other.

Gerard lit up his cigarette, tilting his head back against the rough, gnarled bark of the tree he’d proper himself up against and blew a mouthful of smoke into the cold winter air.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” a voice questioned him out of nowhere.

Gerard stiffened and looked round with wide eyes to find a boy stood over him. Gerard couldn’t really see him properly because it was so dark, but the guy was pretty small. He had dark hair that was cut close cropped to his head. His eyes were big and round and his green irises sparkled in the dark. He was olive skinned, the colour of creamy coffee. He was heavily tattooed, sleeves on both of his arms, hands and his neck. Gerard caught the glint of metal hoops in his nose and lip.

Gerard stared at him, his ability to actually speak in understandable English failing. He just blinked and stared at the boy stood over him.

The guy smirked and plopped himself down next to Gerard, crossing his legs and reaching out to snatch up the light resting on Gerard’s thigh. Gerard squeaked, jerking away from the sudden contact. The guy gave him a confused look before lighting up a joint.

“I’m Frank,” the guy smiled, breathing out a lungful of hazy smoke.

Gerard scrunched his nose up at the smell. He’d always hated the smell of weed and had never touched the stuff once. It was called dope for a reason, Gerard thought.

Frank was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to talk. Gerard mastered a barely audible ‘um’ before blushing heavily and distracting himself with his nearly finished cigarette.

“You don’t talk much do you?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gerard just shrugged and gnawed on his lip nervously. He’d never been acknowledged by someone like Frank, never mind a conversation with him. Frank just grinned again and offered him the joint.
Gerard stared down at his inked fingers and the joint that he held between them so delicately.

“You want a hit?” Frank asked curiously, watching Gerard’s face. “S’good stuff, honest.”

Gerard didn’t know what to do, so he just took the joint from Frank and hesitantly sucked in a lungful. He felt pretty disgusting, but he had this weird urge to try and seem as cool as possible in front of Frank. He failed though, because Gerard was far from cool. He spluttered on the stuff, coughing and his eyes beginning to water.

He quickly handed the joint back to a giggling Frank. “Sorry.”

“So you do speak!” Frank exclaimed happily, dragging heavily on his joint. “You’ve never taken grass before.”

Gerard shook his head. “No.”

Frank shrugged and smiled warmly at him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Nearly hacked up my fucking lungs when I first tried it. What’s your name?”

“Gerard,” he mumbled, blushing.

Frank hummed, a small, thoughtful smile still on his lips as he shuffled closer to Gerard and lay down, stretching out on his back on the grass and looking up at the faint stars that shone through the thick, polluted Jersey sky. He looked really kind of beautiful like that. Gerard wanted to reach out and touch him, but he kept his hand tightly balled up at his sides.

Frank glanced over at Gerard and raked his eyes up and down him. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I um, I don’t...I don’t really know anyone here,” Gerard replied, averting his eyes down to the floor and shredding up the dying brown grass with his long pale fingers.

“Didn’t think so,” Frank mumbled around his joint. “How come you’re here then?”

“My brother asked me to come with him. I don’t really know how he knows the guy who lives here
but...” Gerard trailed off, realising he was probably sounding like a complete fool.

“Few of my friends said there was some posh private school dude hanging round somewhere.
Thought I’d come and check you out,” Frank told him, grinning wildly.

“Is it that obvious?” Gerard asked, smiling weakly.

Frank nodded, running a hand through his short, ruffled hair. “You stick out like a...like a...I don’t even know, but you can just tell, y’know?”

“What?” Gerard giggled nervously.

“Ugh, I don’t even know, I’m pretty high alright?” Frank replied, roll over onto his stomach and holding head up in his hands, staring at Gerard. “Like, your clothes for instance.”

Gerard glanced down to find Frank’s cold fingers picking at his black jeans.

“I bet you these jeans are designer or something, right? You can just tell by looking that you’d have to save up for years to get this kind of shit,” Frank explained, tapping his fingers over Gerard’s knee. “And your jacket. Jesus, I’d have to sell my fucking house for that jacket. If I had a home anyway.”

Gerard suddenly felt uncomfortable and hot in his clothes that were clearly, as Frank had pointed out, expensive and designer. It wasn’t even as if Gerard had received them for a birthday or anything. He’d been nothing other than stupidly expensive clothes his entire life.

“What do you mean ‘if you had a home’?” Gerard asked, suddenly feeling concerned for Frank.

Frank rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing. My ma threw me out again the other day, s’not always serious but I think it is this time.”

“But...but where are you staying then?” Gerard asked with a frown, focusing on the way Frank’s hand was now resting comfortably on Gerard’s leg that was stretched out in front of him.

“Crashing on my girlfriend’s couch for a few days,” Frank replied. “I think I’m gonna have to leave soon though. Her ma’s getting pretty sick of me.”

“Where are you gonna go after that though?” Gerard persisted, unable to stop the feeling of worry and also disappointment at the mention of Frank’s girlfriend.

Frank smiled. “Hey, quit worrying so much. I’ll be alright, always am.”

“But...but you can’t just live on the streets Frank, I mean, what if somebody-” Gerard began to gush but got cut off by Frank.

“Gerard, I’ll be fine, honestly. This happens all the time,” Frank insisted with a softer smile. “Trust me. Never been thrown out before have you?”

Gerard blinked in shock at his question. Why would his parents ever throw him out? “Uh, no. No.”

“You have it pretty fucking easy dude,” Frank sighed, rolling his head to the side to glance at the house before looking back up at the sky again. “Bet you have a big, pretty house with a fucking maid. And you totally go to private school, don’t even deny it. Bet your dad pays for everything you want and your mom doesn’t have to work and you go on these big ass fancy holidays to someplace exotic or whatever and you have all these shiny sports cars and-”

“I get it,” Gerard muttered. “I don’t need you to tell me what a pansy rich ass faggot I am Frank.”

Frank looked up at him then, frowning. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve never...I’ve never spoken to like, a rich dude before.”

Gerard laughed at this and, because he was a complete dork and embarrassing shit happened to him all the time and it wasn’t even fair OK, he snorted. He fucking snorted. He hid his face in embarrassment.

Frank smirked. “You’re cute.”

Gerard was pretty sure his usual pale as fuck skin was turning bright red right now.

Frank brushed his knuckles across Gerard’s warm cheek softly, staring up at him. Gerard found himself feeling weird and tingly and just really sort of freaked out, but in a good way, because
Frank’s hands were cool and soft and they made his hot face feel a little better and just. Just...Gerard didn’t even know.

“You wanna go back inside?” Frank asked, eye bright and glimmering. “My friend said someone was supposed to brining coke tonight. I’m not missing out on that shit.”

Gerard gave him a soft smile. “Uh, no, it’s OK. I’m just gonna...I don’t know, I think I might leave soon.”

“Really?” Frank asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re really turning down all that lovely, cheap shitty beer, wasted girls looking for a quick fuck and a few lines of coke that probably doesn’t even have coke in it all?”

Gerard laughed a little. “I guess so.”

Frank got up the, dusting the stray blades of grass stuck to his jeans off. Gerard only then really noticed what Frank was wearing after he’d pointed out Gerard’s clearly expensive clothes. Frank was wearing a pair of jeans that looked like they might try and bite anybody that put them in a washing machine, rips and holes and stains littering the battered denim, old leather belts and chains wrapped around his slim hips. His top half was clothed in a t-shirt that had definitely seen better days, the fading Misfits skull staring back at him.

“It was cool talking to you Gerard,” Frank grinned, shoving his tattooed hands into the pockets on the front of his jeans. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gerard smiled back. “Nice to meet you too.”

With that Frank turned and headed back into the loud, chaotic house. Gerard watched him until he disappeared amongst the sea of writhing sweaty bodies.

Gerard’s head thumped back against the tree trunk and he squished his eyes closed, sighing heavily and running his hands through his knotted fire engine red hair.

He knew he wouldn’t see Frank again.