Knives and Pens

I’ve quickly come to realise that the little group of misfits, who I’ve already come to think of as my friends, might just be my ticket to actually surviving this hellhole with most of my sanity intact. The intimate little group is quite warm and inviting, and they’re all making an effort to let me fit right in. It’s like I’ve kind of been adopted by all of them, sort of like how they all seem to have adopted one another.

Bob and Ray are both like the big brothers of the insane little family; Ray being the quiet genius you’d go to for advice, and Bob being the one who roughs up anyone who dares stand in your way of something, not even batting an eye.

Alicia and Jamia are like those typical ‘mother figures’ you always see girls turn into when they’re playing house – where they boss Mikey and Frank around like stern wives would, but tend to want to always take care of everyone, like their very own children. Of course, I’ve never been a girl, nor had a sister of any kind; so I can only base this on the knowledge that I have gathered from childhood games with Jenny Anderson (who stopped hanging out with me and my friends once she got breasts, and became popular), and what you always see on TV.

Frank… He definitely needs the firm hand of his sweet girlfriend. There are no two ways about it. And I swear that those two should get married one day. I see them as a typical ‘white picket-fence’ type of family in my mind’s eye; complete with three children, more puppies than any one family should be able to handle, and lazy nights in, curled up, watching geeky movies. With the only exception being that the sweet little wife would be the one to stealthily wear the pants most of the time, being sure not to let the heart-eyed husband notice, for fear of making him feel like less of a man.

Mikey, though. I think he submits to Alicia too easily. I think he really likes her so much, that he’ll literally do anything for her, even shit he really doesn’t want to do. If you ask me, the poor guy is way too young to be that whipped, and (as sweet, kind and awesome as Alicia is) I’m not sure they’re heading quite the right way for a long-lasting relationship. Alicia isn’t nearly as subtle about dominating the relationship as Jamia is, and right now it’s still fine, but she still needs to be careful that Mikey won’t one day snap under the pressure of bending backwards to please and impress Alicia. He has some kind of power or control over Pete, though, which is probably something, I suppose.

Pete, I can’t even talk about. I actually feel so sorry for the poor guy. He has this insane hero-worship thing going on for Mikey, and I can practically see the little cartoon hearts shooting out of his head when he looks at him. To top that off, he’s always trying to somehow get Gerard’s attention or approval, but royally fucks it up almost every time. Gerard doesn’t seem nearly as oblivious to the entire situation as Mikey does, but he never seems to let the frustration overrule him too much, and he never says anything about it – whether out of avoiding making too much contact with Pete, or simply hoping that the whole thing will blow over if ignored for long enough, I can’t be too sure.

Gerard, though, is a character who really fascinates me. Observing him tends to be the most interesting; more than anyone else in the entire group, and definitely the most fun. Of course, I’m not basing this exclusively on the fact that I don’t exactly object to his appearance (on the contrary, I actually think he’s pretty cute). It’s more than that, though. There is something about him that just lures me in, and I just can’t put my finger on it. Gerard is not a person who really demands a lot of attention (like Frank or Pete would, for example). In fact, at lunch, he hardly says anything at all. He only speaks when absolutely necessary, it seems, and it’s never loud or forceful. He seems to be quite shy and reserved, which I find intriguing. I get the feeling that he’s carefully concealing some hurt or secrets behind some well-plastered walls, which I desperately want to have a peek at.

“Don’t you think, Andy?” Frank asks, pulling me back to reality, and I find everyone eyeing me expectantly.

Shit! How long was I spaced out for?

“Sorry, what?” I feel my cheeks slightly heat up, and I notice that Gerard is avoiding my gaze.

That really causes my heart to speed up a bit in mild panic, because I really hope that I haven’t just been caught staring at him while lost in thought.

I doubt they’d shun me for being the ‘fag’ of the group, because they’re all generally pretty accepting of everyone, but I haven’t exactly come out and said that I like dudes yet. I’m also rather convinced that getting caught drooling over one of your new friends wouldn’t be the best way to go about that little revelation. Plus, I’m also really not pleased with the disturbing thought that had just crossed my mind. I was not drooling over Gerard. I’m man enough to admit that I was carefully observing, hoping to get a better glimpse of what really lies beneath the surface, but I was definitely not drooling.

“Frank was just rambling on about how Gerard needs to get a haircut,” Mikey supplies helpfully, his lips twitching in the tiniest of smiles.

“He looks like the starving artist we all know he’s gonna turn into,” Bob winks, causing Gerard’s cheeks to flush an adorable shade of pink.

“Except he won’t be starving,” Frank practically bounces in his seat, and I wonder how the fuck I had missed his whole lyrical rant. “He’s really good. He’ll be discovered, make it big, and we’ll all be trying to leech off of him. None of us would have to keep a job when he’ll be able to provide for us all so very generously.”

“Dream on, Frankie,” Gerard says softly, seemingly still shy, but determined to say something. “I’d never be able to afford you. I don’t think I want to know what your medical insurance costs in a month.”

“You are no longer my favourite, Gee,” Frank says a little sulkily, but we all know that he’ll be all over the opportunity to be Gerard’s very best friend again in no time at all.

“Thank God,” Gerard half-smiles, seemingly a little more confident and relaxed. “Jamia can take over from me, right? I mean, as your girl, she might just be perfect for the job.”

“Damn right,” Jamia grins, followed by her and Frank kissing sickingly sweetly.

With everyone going back about their business, no doubt relieved to temporarily be freed from Frank’s hyperactive little session, I can easily observe Gerard eyeing Frank and Jamia kissing. He doesn’t seem to realise that he’s being watched, though. There is definitely some longing in the stare, but it’s not in the way one might think. He doesn’t seem to want to be with either of them, which is curious. The only other reason, apart from pining for someone, to watch a couple together like that with so much internal pain evident in your eyes, is being lonely.

Come to think of it, when I first started discovering my sexuality, I also used to give couples that exact same look. I wasn’t pining or lonely, though. I was just envious of boys being able to kiss girls, and enjoy it so much, because I genuinely thought that that was what I was meant to be doing.

Gerard breaks his stare, and our eyes briefly meet. I send him a little reassuring smile, and the one I receive in return is quite embarrassed at being caught staring at another couple’s PDA.

I duck my head, hiding my smirk. Gerard Way is just too fun to observe.

----

“Save me, dude,” I beg dramatically of Gerard, moaning as if from deep within the depths of my black little soul. “There is no way I’m gonna be able to live to tell the tale of how I survived a fucking double Bio today. Can’t we just ditch?”

Gerard eyes me a little with consideration, worrying his bottom lip between his tiny teeth. He looks around, finally turning his gaze back to me, a small grin on his face – which is a rarity in itself.

“Come on,” he beckons me, leading me in the direction of the bleachers, and I’m only too willing to follow.

“Fuck,” I moan as I lie down on the grass behind the bleachers, using my bag as a makeshift pillow. “I’m so glad we didn’t get caught sneaking out here, man. This is much better than going to class.”

“I know,” Gerard gives me a shy little smile, sitting down beside me, pulling out his curious little sketchbook, seemingly picking up where he left off last.

I don’t want to risk asking him what he’s working on, since I can sense that he’s a bit sensitive over his drawings, like it’s really personal to him (which I understand, considering I don’t exactly go around offering my writing up to anyone to witness); and I definitely don’t want to pry and scare the guy off, since I want to stealthily ease into getting to know every little bit of him that he hides from everyone else – everyone who don’t bother trying to subtly crack the surface.

“Hey, you mind if I play some music, though?” I ask after a while of silence.

“Sure,” he shrugs half distractedly, not even looking up from whatever he’s working on in that mysterious little sketchbook of his.

I pull my phone out, opening my music, playing it on shuffle. I turn the volume down a bit, because it would suck if we’ve gone through the trouble of successfully sneaking out here, only to be caught later on like this.

The first song to play is Helena by The Misfits. I close my eyes, just enjoying the song, revelling in not sitting in some boring class right now, and it surprises me how blissfully content I am simply spending time with Gerard, neither of us even needing to say anything – no awkwardness in the air between us.

Next, (s)AINT by Marilyn Manson plays, and Gerard kind of shocks me by singing along. I mean, I’m not shocked that he knows the words, or even that he likes the song. I’m just shocked that the usually reserved guy I’ve come to witness would actually feel comfortable enough to sing in front of me. I wonder if it can actually be seen as a sign that he’s beginning to relax around me, and that he’s slowly beginning to recognise me as a part of his innermost circle, because he doesn’t seem to realise that he’s even singing along to the music at all.

Trying to hide my gleeful smirk, I tentatively sing along too, curious to see if he’ll notice what he’s actually doing, while he appears to be so very lost and captivated in the actions of drawing; curious to see what his reaction will be, if he’ll maybe turn shy and stop singing.

He does freeze for a moment, confirming my suspicions that he had been singing along subconsciously, looking up at me briefly, but then he shyly guides his attention back to his drawing, singing along again as if nothing had disturbed it in the first place.

“You’re pretty good,” I say casually, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, adding to the nonchalance I’m attempting to portray, as to not embarrass the dude too much.

I hand him a smoke and my lighter too, which he accepts gratefully.

“Thanks,” he mutters, lighting up, then tossing the lighter back to me. Whether he’s thanking me for the unexpected compliment, or the smoke, is carefully left open to my own interpretation, and I gladly leave it at that.