Incisions to Corrupt a Mind

“Frank, darling, hurry up! I hate to rush my sweetie on his first day, but you’ll be late if you don’t get a move on!” Frank rolled his eyes and let out a quiet laugh, a smirk playing at the corner of his pierced lip. He straightened his tie just slightly before dropping his hands, glancing at his reflection in the full body mirror that stood before him. He pulled the tie slightly to the left, and then to the right again, sighing.

“Frank!” His mother’s tone was harsher now and he dropped his hands completely, yanking his gaze away from himself as he moved out of his room and down the stairs.

“Mother, calm down,” Frank breathed, a bit jostled from his jog down the stairs. “I have never been late one day in my life and I certainly will not start today.”

Linda Iero looked at her son incredulously, before reaching out and batting him lightly on the arm. “Frank, don’t be smart with me!” Frank laughed lightly, one hand slipping up to cover his mouth.

“Kay, ma. Sorry, ma,” he giggled out, reaching one arm out to wrap around his mother’s shoulder. Linda hugged her son back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You’ll do good, baby,” she smiled, pulling away. “Just remember to be polite like always, dear, and–“

Linda was cut off as her son began to jog to the door, his out of place Chucks thumping against the redwood floors. “That’s great, ma, really, but I’m going to be late!” And before Frank could wait for his mother’s reply he had rushed out the door and out to his front yard, searching frantically for his car.

The second Frank slumped into his brand new BMW M3 (birthday present a month ago courtesy of his wonderful mother) he had turned up his radio, Black Flag playing instantly. He sunk into the pristine seats, breathing in deeply the smell of new car mixed with Marlboro reds.

On the outside, Frank wasn’t the type of person to listen to what he did, or smoke what he did (or smoke at all). In fact, if you never gave the boy a second glance, you’d think he was nothing but a lord-preaching, pretentious-talking, tie-wearing too-good kid who couldn’t be bothered by the single thought of breaking a rule. Frank thought about this as he drove; he thought about what people would think about him at this new school (the change from St. Mary’s to Belleville High wasn’t a small one), he thought about how he saw himself, and he thought about what he’d think of himself at the end of the day.

Frank didn’t like antisocial people. In fact, Frank would have rather sat in a room full of spiders¬– anything other than being partnered up on his first day a semester-long partnership with the most antisocial boy in school. If that were ever to happen, which Frank doubted. But he had a sick habit of worrying himself over improbable things and so he did so his entire way to school, the voice of Henry Rollins drowning out all outside noises.

•••••

“Ass up, Way.” Each word was a bark of unpleasantness to the dark-haired boy’s ears and he buried his head underneath his pillow, groaning loudly in response to his brother’s monotone.

“Fuck off,” he growled, except it sounded more like ‘fahck uwf’ because his face was pressed up right against his mattress. Gerard groaned again, and blinked hard. “I mean it, Michael.”

A scoff seemed to be all he would get in response. Gerard was fine with that until the monotone of his brother’s voice broke heavenly silence, “Gerard Arthur Way, don’t make me drag your fat ass out of bed!” Gerard let out a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut tight and trying to pretend he was asleep just in case his brother decided to really come in and drag him out of his basement-disguised safe haven. Mikey wouldn’t dare, he thought.

And really, Mikey wouldn’t dare, because Mikey was afraid of the stank cave Gerard liked to call his room. Mikey was afraid his brother’s zombies would come to life right off the paper and chase him out for opening a window, or picking up a dirty sock off the floor. Mikey was also just a tad bit more that claustrophobic and Gerard’s room was smaller than a pinhead. So no, Mikey really wouldn’t dare. This thought comforted Gerard and he let out a warm sigh, feeling his body sink towards the cozy holds of sleep.

Gerard was seconds away from sleep because honestly, he really though Mikey would never. So he didn’t actually expect to be jolted awake by the back of his door thudding against his cracked, black walls, and he didn’t expect Mikey’s thin, wiry fingers to wrap around his ankle. No, he really did not expect to be pulled out of bed.

Mikey cringed and looked down at his brother, who was lost in all the puffy comforter that had fallen down with him. “You owe me,” he drawled, eyes frantic as he gazed around Gerard’s room, a visible shiver running through his body. “Big time.”

Gerard groaned for the third time that morning, arm flinging up to cover his eyes. He most certainly did not want to go to school today. He most certainly did not want to go to school to day. He most entirely, absolutely did not want to go to school today.

Gerard sat up slowly, throwing an arm out and grabbing the first article of clothing that reached his fingers. It was an old Iron Maiden shirt he’d bought at a concert a year ago, and it didn’t smell too bad, so he pulled it on, feeling slightly satisfied.

Gerard stood up. He really didn’t feel like pants today but he supposed, if he was going out in public, that it would be the most acceptable thing to do. He also really didn’t want anyone seeing his gross thighs, so the search for skinnies was on.

Gerard finally managed to get out of the basement feeling presentable enough for the day. He of course realized that he’d just be ignored, again, but at least he wouldn’t be ignored and smell like a dumpster and have hair like he’d just been fucked by a steamroller.

Mikey shot him a smile and handed him an old mug of his that he’d once chicken-scratched the words ‘Doom Patrol’ on. Gerard took the mug gratefully, his crooked mouth quirking up slightly at the corner as the smell of cappuccino hit his senses.

“Catching a ride with you today,” Mikey intoned, grabbing a thin leather jacket off the back of a chair before popping up next to Gerard, a tired almost-smile on his face. It really wasn’t a smile at all– in fact his mouth was set in a straight line. But after living with Mikey his entire life, literally, Gerard knew that Mikey was smiling.

“Fine.” Gerard was pleased with his response and managed a smile– he had been feeling particularly well of himself so far this morning– until he realized that Mikey in the car meant suffering through Mikey’s music, so he added, “but none of that British shit.”

“Anthrax,” Mikey countered, and Gerard shrugged.

The brothers made their way to Gerard’s beat-up hand-me-down junker, Gerard sliding in the driver’s seat with Mikey happy to swing shotgun. The eldest Way brother carefully pulled out of the driveway, already lost in his thoughts as his younger brother popped in a mix tape of his music.

Gerard wondered what the hell he was doing with his life. He wondered what the hell he was doing, why the hell he was doing, and who the hell even cared anyway, because he sure didn’t. Mikey shot him a smile that he caught thanks to peripheral vision and he returned the gesture, but only long enough to not distract him from his severe and already very deep thinking about caring, and why to do it anyway.

He only hoped that he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone today, touch anyone today, and most of all look at anyone today. Gerard was sure of this day being a day of minimal accomplishments and he was not about to let that be ruined if he had any say, so he just hoped as hard as he could that today would be just like everything else.

Sometimes he liked being the weird introvert kid. No one to bother you, really...

He really hoped.

Frank pulled his key out of the ignition and sighed. 7:45 AM, right on time. Except he wasn’t, because he had to be in class at 7:45 AM and he was nowhere near in class. In fact, he didn’t even know what class he was supposed to be in. He sighed again and pushed his way out of his black BMW, shutting the door and glancing out at his surroundings, eyes taking in the building that was soon to become his new high school.

He made his way up the stairs, already feeling unnerved that he saw not more than a few stragglers with slips in their hand rushing to their various classes. So he was late, for the first time in his life, and he had no idea where to go, and no one was around to tell him. Great, he thought. What a way to start the day.

Frank groaned and pushed onward, hoping soon that a blaring neon sign would pop up out of nowhere to point him to the admittance office, at least, or maybe a person who could tell him where it was. No such luck, of course. Frank rolled his eyes and kept walking, anyway. He most certainly wasn’t going to give up.

He finally found a door with a silver-plated label that read ‘OFFICE & SUCH’. Well, the plate only read ‘office’– someone had scribbled the rest in thick black pen on the side of the door. Frank just ignored this, wondering whether he should knock or just push his way inside, hoping he didn’t aggravate anyone who might be in this office.

Frank’s hand found the knob before he could finish his train of thought and he shrugged to himself before turning it, and pushing the door open. “Um, hello?” he called out softly. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt but I’m new here and–”

“Just get in, you’re lettin’ all the cold out,” a gruff voice answered him. Frank startled, but made his way inside the room anyway. He was met by a woman who was–unbelievably–shorter than him, and looked as if she might have had a moustache at one time because a few dark, excess hairs resided over her upper lip. Frank grimaced but caught himself quickly, quirking the corner of his mouth up in a polite smile.

“Hate to interrupt, ma’am,” Frank started, “but I’m new here, and terribly lost. If you wouldn’t mind, please, to point out where I should head… well, I would be extremely grateful.” The woman’s gruff expression didn’t change but she turned around, letting out a grunt as she made her way to a tiny desk in the corner of the room.

“Name, please,” the woman monotoned. Frank nodded, politely, stepping forward just slightly and up to the woman’s desk.

“Um, yes, of course. Sorry, it’s Frank Ie–” Frank was cut off by the door behind him giving a loud thud against the wall and he jumped out of the way before he could be crushed by the two slightly older-looking boys that careened inside.

“Sorry, Helga,” the taller, younger one drawled, a most certainly not sorry expression on his face. “Gerard,” he grunted, gripping the second boy’s wrist and yanking him forward, “wouldn’t wake up this morning.”

The woman, Helga, just looked at the two boys with disdain. “You’re late, again, Way,” she growled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Frank scooted backward up into the corner of the room, still slightly startled by almost being brained with the door a few moments earlier. He watched on with slight interest, taking in the sight of the two boys before him.

The one who had spoken was taller, and blonde, glasses slightly askew and looking much out of place with his Anthrax t-shirt, ripped skinnies, and beat-up Keds. The slightly shorter boy behind him–Gerard, if Frank had heard correctly– was completely different in appearance (well, except for the face, which made Frank assume they were related, but Frank wasn’t counting the face). This boy had unruly, dark hair that flew out at all the wrong places. He was wearing all black, except for the slight coloring on his shirt. Frank recognized this to be an Iron Maiden tee and he smiled mentally. At least this Gerard had a decent taste in music.

“Anyway,” a gruff voice barked, and Frank was quickly startled out of his thoughts. “You’ll have to wait. I’m dealing with someone already, so scoot out of the way.” The tall boy nodded, letting his grip on the other’s wrist loose as he made his way over to where Frank was standing. Frank jumped slightly, stepping forward and back up to the desk.

“Um, as I was saying…” Frank searched his mind for what exactly he had been saying before he was interrupted, but he fell short.

“Your name,” the receptionist, Helga, groaned. “I need your name if you want to know where you’re supposed to go.”

“Oh, right. Terribly sorry, uh, Frank Iero.”

“Oh, you’re that new kid,” she grimaced. “The one from St. Mary’s.”

“Yes, that would be me,” Frank said nervously. “Now, please, the schedule, if you wouldn’t mind.” Helga snorted.

“Hold up,” she intoned, and turned to the computer that was sitting precariously on her desk. She clicked on the keyboard a few times before she turned to Frank again, her eyes narrowed. “Maths, in room B2,” she drawled.

“Oh, uh, of course. Maths. Room B2. Thank you, ma’am,” Frank smiled nervously, nodding to the woman and bringing his hand up to give a slight wave. As he was turning to the door the two boys caught his eye once more and he smiled at them nervously before pushing his way out of the tiny room.

“Maths,” Frank spoke aloud to himself, once he was back in the hallway. “B2. Maths, B2.” He repeated these words quietly aloud to himself as a mantra, eyes scanning back and forth for the room labeled B2.

He was certain that he had found it, or at least almost found it, when a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hey, fagboy, nice tie,” the voice jeered. Frank turned slightly in the direction of the voice, one eyebrow up curiously. He was met by a group of three brutish boys, the biggest of which had been the cause of the voice and was smirking menacingly.

Frank just shrugged, and turned back around. He wasn’t about to get in a fight on his first day. So he shrunk himself up into what he hoped was a less noticeable ball and pushed onward to B2, which he hoped to the Lord was right around the corner.

•••••

Gerard’s fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel of his shit-junk car and he sighed in annoyance, his gaze fixated on the cracked, built-in digital clock and it’s blaring numbers reading 7:40. Just great. Gerard was only half way to Belleville High and said school started in five minutes. His life was just dandy.

In fact, this particular occurrence was one high on the list of things that set Gerard into a panicked state of paralyzation, and although Gerard himself did not realize this, Mikey did, and he was not about to let that happen on such a morning like this. So Mikey turned to face his older brother, worry that the beginning of an attack was about to arise even though his face was set straight and expressionless, and he poked Gerard in the shoulder.

“What– Mikey, what?” Gerard asked, agitated as he shot his brother the same annoyed stare he had been giving the clock not seconds before. “I’m kinda busy here, shit!” Mikey leaned back slightly in his seat, stoic expression not changing even as he let out a sigh of relief.

“You worry me sometimes, Gerard, just–” Mikey cut himself off and returned his gaze forward, crossing his arms and grunting. “Never mind it, damn it.” Gerard let out a ruffled ‘thank you’, once more giving the clock his full attention. Mikey glanced over just in time to see that his brother was not at all paying attention to the fact that he was now driving in the wrong lane, and let out a, “Fucking really?” before shoving Gerard’s arm and giving him a list of all the curse words he knew.

“You are going to get us killed, Gee, dammit. Pay a-damned-ttention to the fucking road and not the shitty time, for fuck’s sake!” It was the most Mikey had said in a full sentence since last week, when he and Gerard had gotten into a heated debate over which horror movie deserved to be in the top five, and this got Gerard’s attention, for sure.

“Fine, Mikey, fucking fine!” he blurted out, making a much exaggerated and slightly humorous point to look at the road before him. “I am now paying attention to the– shit, I’m in the wrong lane!” Gerard yelped and quickly swerved into the correct lane, ignoring the various honks he received from his reckless driving.

Mikey screeched. “I tried to tell you that, asshole, but fucking no, you were too busy staring at the clock!” The clock that now read 7:45, and the Way brothers were still not at school. Gerard growled.

“I hate this. I hate it. See, I didn’t want to go to school today for a fucking reason. I knew this was going to happen, I just knew it,” he groaned.

“Well maybe if you’d gotten your fat ass up when I had told you to–”

“Don’t you dare even start with me, Mikey. Don’t do it!” Gerard hissed, swerving the car around a surprise corner. "Just shut up and be quiet... shut up, and be quiet."

“You said that twice, asshole.”

“Shut up and be quiet.”

•••••

The Way brothers eventually did get to school, at 7:47 which meant that they were only two minutes late to class, but sadly also meant that tardy slips were necessary and tardies meant detention and Gerard was so not looking forward to detention again this week. So the two brothers booked it down their now empty school halls, Gerard panting like he was carrying the weight of two men on his shoulders and Mikey rolling his eyes the whole time.

The two got to the main office in what seemed like twenty minutes time, but was more like two, and they burst through the doors without a warning, nearly knocking into some poor kid who neither brother had ever seen before.

Mikey grabbed Gerard’s wrist and yanked him forward, spewing some crap about how everything and their grandmother was Gerard’s fault, but Gerard was too busy noticing the boy off to the side –thanks to Mikey almost braining the poor guy with the door– to really even care about the touching that was not supposed to be happening, or the blaming that so wasn’t fair.

Gerard’s wrist was yet again pulled by Mikey, this time over to the waiting chairs because apparently Helga was taking someone else’s shit before theirs. This was understandable to Gerard, because they had barged in with no warning and they had interrupted, which was rude. Gerard took his time in the waiting chair to take in this new boy’s appearance and, once he had, he almost laughed out loud.

The boy looked from the ankles up like he belonged at some Catholic shitstain school and nowhere near Belle-fucking-ville High, home to the most ‘eat ass and throw up in Grandma’s china vase’ kids on the fucking planet. It was only his Chucks, looking dangerously out of place and clashing terribly with the crisp white dress shirt and blaringly red tie, that reassured Gerard the kid wasn’t a total boob, or something. If he had decent taste in shoes, maybe he had decent taste in life.

Never mind, Gerard decided, two seconds after overhearing the boy plead his case to Helga. He sounded like a fucking Bible, too. Gerard had absolutely no patience for the people so pretentious they even spoke out of their ass, and that’s what this kid was doing with all his pleases and ma’ams.

Gerard knew that this was probably high on the list of stupid reasons to hate someone upon first judgment, but he didn’t care. Plus, even if new kid had Chucks and holy shit, was that a lip ring? It didn’t matter to Gerard, he never spoke to anyone anyway and this kid would most certainly not be an acception.

Mikey caught Gerard staring and smirked–well, he didn’t move a damn muscle in his face, but he raised an eyebrow and Gerard knew too well that in this particular case, that meant a smirk, and Gerard huffed, eyes flitting down away from the new boy with his ‘entirely, extraordinarily exquisite’ vocabulary and his beat-up Chucks.

•••••

When Godboy (Gerard had decided to cleverly refer to him) had finally left and Mikey had somehow charmed his way into getting two excused (actual excused) tardies, the Way brothers were not nearly two steps out the office door when Mikey looked at Gerard, and fucking smirked again, and said, “You like him.”

Gerard spluttered, and knotted his eyebrows together in annoyance. “Fucking don’t, A, and B, you be quiet dammit.” Mikey kept his evil eyebrow raised.

“Right there,” he gestured to Gerard, all of Gerard, “is a surefire sign of like. Denial equals like,” Mikey spoke smartly, as if his crude teasing were actually the key to existence.

“I’m not denying,” Gerard groaned, as the two brothers walked side-by-side to their homeroom classes. He turned to the younger Way and hissed. “Seriously, Mikes. I don’t even know the fucking prick’s name.” Gerard was interjected here to be alerted by his younger brother that Frank Iero was actually the prick in question’s name, and Gerard shrieked an entirely manly, “I don’t care!” before continuing his spiel about how there was no way in Hell he could be attracted to someone he’d literally seen for .18 seconds and interacted with for point-none.

“Whatever,” Mikey monotoned. “You totally like him, Gerard. Honestly, if by the end of your senior graduation you aren’t fucking said ‘Iero’, then I owe you a coffee.” Gerard didn’t think that was a very fair deal, even if he never did plan to even interact with the kid, he’d still rather get a better fucking reward then a cup of coffee he could literally get free by making himself with the instant his mother constantly bought.

“More like, if I don’t end up fucking, by senior graduation, said kid I literally haven’t met yet, then I get to lock you in my room for an hour… and you have to clean it.” An actual expression of true horror and disgust crossed Mikey’s face, and he gave a pathetic cry out.

“No! Hell no, Gerard. Nuh-uh. You know I have claustrophobia, and I swear on my life a sock once growled at me when I was in there. Your room in rank. Deal’s off.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, spitting back, “Fine! I wasn’t gonna ever fuck him anyway, so there!” Mikey cocked an eyebrow and Gerard realized that what he had said hadn’t actually made human sense, and he was about to correct himself when he realized that they were standing directly in front of Mikey’s homeroom class, and the teacher was glaring at them through the door’s Plexiglas window.

“Fuck,” Gerard huffed. Mikey just looked at the older Way in disapproval. “Whatever, Mikes. Have fun with Hoper-ass.” Mr. Hoperas glared at Gerard and Gerard shrunk back, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“Thanks,” Mikey drawled. “Same for you and Tit-zilla.”

Gerard laughed as he walked to his own class, cringing slightly at the thought of Mrs. Tiesila and what she would do if Gerard wasn’t in her class within another .02 seconds. He thought that he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the new kid getting ragged on by some jocks, but he just shrugged, pushing onward to Hell.

He couldn’t be bothered by the stupid Godboy with his stupid Chucks and that stupid ring on his stupid hot mouth, anyway.