Incisions to Corrupt a Mind

Word count: 2179

Frank was bored.

Well, of course Frank was bored. This was a frequent occurrence whenever he had to be at school and not somewhere– anywhere else, off at a concert or parked on a cliff, Black Flag blasting in his BMW as he sat back with a cigarette between his lips. Yes, indeed school was, truthfully, the most boring thing Frank had ever had the wonderful luck to attend more than once in a row. Today was no exception.

Frank stared on, and his disinterested gaze flickered across this new (and yet somehow, right away, still boring) classroom, taking in each and every new (and decidedly also boring) person who occupied it. Honestly, Frank was about to give up entirely on hoping that Belleville High would hold more interest than a dead cat when someone caught his attention, out the corner of his eye.

This someone was tall– well, wasn't everyone, compared to Frank –with deep brown, ruffled hair and heavy rings of eyeliner around his rich, brown eyes. He was wearing thick-rimmed, black glasses and white suspenders, which were quite in contrast to his black button-up shirt underneath. The tail end of his shirt had come untucked from his stark white skinny jeans, and to top it all of he was wearing grey high-top Chucks. Frank thought he looked very lively, which was shocking, to say the least. In fact, he was the brightest thing in the boorish classroom.

And he was talking to Frank.

Frank, of course, didn’t realize this at first because he was much too busy wondering how this guy’s face was so clear, or how his eyes were so brown. Frank’s own eyes were much to be proud of, he thought, but they were nowhere near as… well, they didn’t have the interesting pop that this kid’s eyes had, they were nowhere near as bright, either. In fact, Frank was contemplating this poor kid so much that he may have never even realized he was being spoken to until the kid reached out and tapped his shoulder, giving a heavy, “Hey! Uh, you in there?”

Frank blinked slowly, pulling his gaze away from this new kid. He quickly realized that however much he had been staring must have been quiet creepy, and was relieved to see that the kid hadn’t actually noticed, for there was nothing on his face but an excited smile. “Oh, uh, sorry, yeah,” Frank said, immediately putting off his correct speech for fear of sounding like a total nugget. Like his mom had said this morning, ‘be polite, but not too polite’. Or something along the lines of that.

“Ah,” the kid said, and then, quite rushed, “Okay, well I’m Brendon, nice to meet ya, and my pencil’s currently under your desk so if you could please–” Brendon had cut himself off and Frank looked down; indeed, there was a black pencil underneath his desk. Frank looked back up at Brendon, back down at the pencil, and then to Brendon again, almost confused.

“I can’t reach it, sorry,” Brendon began rambling, “and I would’ve gotten out of my seat and gotten it myself but I felt like that might be a bit awkward for you and so…” Brendon trailed off, smiling that happy smile at Frank. Frank blinked and his gaze dropped once more to the pencil before bending down slightly and retrieving it, holding it up to Brendon.

“Sure, no problem,” he answered, once Brendon had taken the pencil back and thanked him.

“I mean, I hated to be a bother but you looked nice enough and so I figured, why not, Brendon? You’re only suffering yourself here not getting the damned thing back and–” he looked up at Frank embarrassed. “Sorry, I talk a lot. Uh, what did you say your name was?”

“Oh, I didn’t. Uh, Iero. Well, Frank. Iero. Yeah,” Frank said awkwardly, smiling nervously. “Don’t worry about the talking, either. I’d do it too if I knew even one person at this God forsaken place.”

“Right, you’re the new kid! The one from St. Mary’s, or something?” Frank nodded in response. “So cool,” Brendon shot back. “We never get transfers from decent places. Only Highland Park or Linden, never some private schooling institution.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t consider St. Mary’s to be the greatest,” Frank began. “I mean, the school outperforms like 70% of other private schools but the kids there are assholes.” Frank quickly covered his mouth at realization of what he’d said. “Oh, well I don’t mean… I mean, yeah, they are, but…”

Brendon laughed. “Dude, it’s cool anyway. It means your smart, hopefully. No one here is smart. Even the teachers aren’t smart.” Then Brendon shut up thoughtfully for a second, before continuing. “Well, Gerard Way is smart, but no one likes him. I think he’d be okay, if I ever talked to him. His brother, he’s okay, at least. Much more popular than Gerard, Mikey is. Well, Gerard doesn’t talk to people, he never leaves the house, and he’s bad at math… but I think he does A+ in pretty much everything else, so…” Brendon blushed then, looking away from Frank slightly. “Of course, you don’t care,” he giggled.

“No, that’s… that’s interesting,” Frank reassured, his voice sincere. “You know a lot more than I do about people anyway, that’s definitely cool.”

“You did just get here,” Brendon reminded. “Well, if you really wanna know…”

Frank did. And so he spent his entire period listening to Brendon talk about who was who, the big-shot kids and the fuck-ups, the entire math period. He decided that he liked Brendon; he was very lively, and he had a generally good attitude toward life, which was nice.

Soon it was time for next classes (the bell had interrupted Brendon on a spiel about some teacher named Hoperas and how he was Satan– quite rudely, Brendon had interpreted, and Frank had just laughed) and the boys said their goodbyes to each other, smiles on both their faces. Frank smiled as he thought of his new friend– he hoped, at least –as he walked to his next periods. Maybe Belleville wouldn’t be so boring, after all.

•••••

“Do I lo-o-ok like I ca-a-are,” Mikey sung, plopping himself down into the seat across from Gerard. It was currently lunch and the older boy was almost too enveloped in his salad to even notice his younger brother come in, even with the serenade that followed. Gerard looked up.

“No?” he questioned helpfully, and Mikey dropped his hands loudly, sighing in defeat.

“Exactly!” the younger Way exclaimed. “I don’t know why people honestly even bother anymore.” Gerard cocked an eyebrow at the blonde boy, setting his fork down and crossing his arms over the grey table between them.

“What happened this time?” He was honestly curious but his tone came out duller, more disinterested than he intended it to. Mikey didn’t even notice; he was too riled up and in his own world to really bother, anyway.

“Hoper-ass this morning was a cunt and a half,” Mikey began, stopping himself only to take a deep breath before continuing, “and then, at least seven different girls asked me to prom. I had to turn down seven different girls, and half of them are pretty decent, so that was annoying. You know Darcy?” Gerard nodded, having tuned out slightly to give some time to his salad. “Well, she’s pretty chill, right? How was I supposed to tell her that I couldn’t go to prom with her because I was staying home with my brother, the giant chickenshit art-fag loser?”

Gerard only stopped playing with his lettuce to let out a soft, slightly offended, “Hey!” Mikey sighed.

“Well, you know it’s true,” he said sadly, “that’s what they all think of you.” Gerard exhaled, nodding. “Anyway… ugh, it was just stressful. Even after that, Pete came up and asked me if I was busy this Saturday and I had to tell him that I ‘may have to check my calendar on that one, Gerard might need me in again’. You know what he said to me, Gee? He said, ‘You need to stop letting him get in the way of your life’. What was I supposed to say to that, Gee? He’s right he’s fucking right, and I just–”

Gerard looked up, a sad expression on his face. “You like Pete,” he said slowly. Mikey blinked once, then narrowed his eyes, letting out a quiet hiss.

“Yes, I like Pete,” he rushed, looking annoyed.

“Well, you tell him yes, then. You’re free. Your calendar says you won’t be needed Saturday.” Mikey blinked at Gerard again, confused for a moment before his expression fell sullen.

“I’m not free, though. Gerard… ugh, God, this Saturday is a shot day and last time… Well, God Gerard.” Mikey sat back, his face set straight. “I can’t. I’ll tell him no, I can’t.” Gerard only blinked sadly at his salad.

“I hate that I get in the way of your social life. I’m a shit brother,” Gerard stated. Mikey lowered his head down, resting his chin on his arms, trying to get level with the older boy.

“Shh, Gee, you’re not. You’re the best brother ever. Remember when I was five and I fell off that swing, and you carried me on my shoulders home, and you carried me like that for a week, an entire week cos you thought I’d hurt to walk?” Mikey reminisced. Gerard only sighed.

“Okay, so one time I was a saint. Since you were five, what have I done that was at all redeeming?” Gerard’s voice was flat. He didn’t want to have this conversation, because Mikey always won it. He didn’t feel like talking anymore, or eating. He pushed his salad away and looked up slightly, his vision of the younger Way blocked only by a few loose strands of hair.

“Gerard, you’re always there for me–”

“No. You’re always there for me. You’re the one who has to cancel his weekend plans because his big brother, the art-fag, is too afraid of needles. You’re the one who turns down prom dates because I’m not going. You’re the fucking brother of the year and I almost got us killed this morning. How am I there for you… you’re there for me.” Mikey sighed, standing up and walking over to Gerard.

“Hey,” he said to the older Way. “Hey, turn around, face me,” and he hit Gerard’s arm as he sat on the bench next to his older brother. Gerard slowly turned, his eyes still narrowed in frustration. Mikey put a hand on his shoulder.

“You remember… ah,” Mikey sighed, his eyebrows creasing together in frustration. “God, dad called. Last Sunday. It was, I don’t know, three in the morning and we were up and Dracula was on and Dad called.” Gerard sat up slightly at this, nodding.

“Yeah, Dad never calls. Of course I remember.”

“Well, God Gee, you know how much I miss him. You know… I never spent time with him, when I had the chance, even when he wanted to I’d rather be out with my friends… And, so, when he left I was like, ‘Fuck. I’ve taken this man for granted and he’s gone now, and what does that mean? Will I ever get to see him again?’ Well he never comes around anymore, he’s so busy with work and you know how he was gonna come visit me, and we were gonna have a day, where we went out and did the shit I never wanted to do, but…”

Mikey’s eyebrows were furrowed and his voice became bitter. “He called me up and cancelled. ‘Work got in the way, son. I’m sorry, I know you miss me, but I’ll have to postpone again’. Again, he couldn’t make it, and I just–”

Mikey’s fingers clenched into fists and he sighed, leaning forward slightly so his forehead was pressed against Gerard’s shoulder. The older Way’s arm reached up and wrapped around his younger brother. “I couldn’t stop crying. It was fucking three in the morning and I was just screaming and you were there, and you let me scream and cry and you just… you never once tried to stop me. You just let me go and God, it’s nice to have a brother like you Gerard because you get me. You get that sometimes, I don’t want to be told ‘It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay’ because it won’t. I guess, just… thank you for that.”

Mikey leaned up, his face once again void of nearly all emotion. His voice was solid and monotone the next time he spoke, “Thank you. I guess.”

Gerard nodded, and let go of the blonde boy. “Yeah. I just want you to have a life, Mikes. I feel like I take up most of it.” Mikey almost smirked at this.

“Yeah, you do, asshat. But whatever. Pete wants my ass anyway, he’ll wait for me,” Mikey joked.

And Gerard laughed. He really did love his brother.