The Paper Boy

told from Gerard's point of veiw

He was supposed to be here twenty-two minutes ago! I hate it when he's late! I always think he's trying to avoid me or I missed him. I know he'll be here though. Who's he, exactly? Only the most adorable, nicest guy in the history of hot guys! Yes, I realize I'm a guy also. Got a problem with it? Glad you don't, because everyone else seems to. At least I have one person I can depend on to say that I'm not strange or going to hell, but I really don't even know who you are... Who are you?

Back to Frankie. Yes, I realise that I am in no way entitled to call him Frankie, I just do! I've never said hi to the boy, let alone had an actual conversation with him. I only know his name and what tie he comes here everyday. His name is Frank Anthony Iero and he always comes at 8:06. It's currently 8:28.

Just as I look at the clock, to see if a minute had passed since I last did, I heard that familiar humming. It was distinctive; it was Frank. I peered out of my window to see my brown haired beauty. He was wearing those skinny jeans with the hole right next to the crotch again. I think they're his favorite, they're mine too. He had a tight, black hoody covering what would most likely be an equally tight, black shirt with some band's name on it. He was wearing his beat up pink Vans and studded pink belt.

My father called him a faggot for wearing pink. I wish he was. Not a faggot in the derogatory way but as in gay. He probably isn't, though. He's probably a homophobic prick like the rest of the people in this God foresaken town. He was n't in my mind. In my mind, he was a flamboyant gay guy who secretly wanted me as bad as I wanted him.

He bent down to set the paper down how my father likes it. His sweat shirt rose up and some of his olive skin was exposed. What a lovely patch of olive skin it was. I know I shouldn't enjoy the curves of his butt this much and I shouldn't crave seeing that one patch of skin, but I did.

He looked up and saw me. We stared in each others eyes for a moment. My hazels met his mezmerizing greens. He blushed and looked down at his feet. I probably scared him. Stupid me! He looked back up and, again, caught my stare. His mouth slowly turned into and open mouth smile, with all of his teeth showing. Then he did something he had never done before: he waved.

Frank Iero waved at me. I was on cloud nine. I felt sick and excited at the same time. I would puke if I didn't know that would drive him away. I struggled to do it, but waved back nervously. He giggled at me, but not in the mean sense.

"What's your name?" Frank asked.

"G-gg--ggggerr-gerarddd..." I tried to say.

Frank gave me a look and repeated his question.

"Gerard!" I answered back, clearly this time.

"Well, Gerard, how would you like to-" he started.

My mind was racing. This was it! He was talking to me and I was talking back! We were talking to each other. He was going to ask me to hang out with him. He must think of me as not just some creep! I'm in heaven! I'm on a cloud!

"Gerard, I want you to stop talking to that faggot!" my father shouted from somewhere inside our house.

Frank put his head down and started walking away. I couldn't stand for my Frank to be put down like that. I couldn't bear to see him upset!

"Never speak to him like that again!" I yelled.

Frank turned to look at me with a pleading look in his eyes. Where we lived, it was incredibly dangerous to talk back to adults, especially ones who drink like my father.

"Don't do this!" Frank hissed.

"That comment hurt you, and I will never let anyone hurt you!" I said.

Frank looked at me with a sad smile then turned and walked away. Seconds later, my father burst into my room. He beat me but all the time I had a smile on my face because Frank Iero had done twp thing that I had never imagined were possible: he had smiled and waved at me!