Status: In progress...
Party Poison
Chapter 2
Gerard’s P.O.V.
The next morning I arise to the obnoxious beeping of my alarm clock, which I immediately turn off. I swing my legs carelessly over the side of my bed, trying to rub the sleep and blurriness from my eyes, and trudge up the stairs to the living room. Carefully picking my way across the carnage of the party, I finally make it to the kitchen to put some coffee in the machine.
The coffee machine finishes and I sip at the scorching, bitter liquid until my tongue and throat are raw. Out of the corner of my eye I see Mikey’s latest catch sneaking down the stairs and tiptoeing towards the door, hugging her jacket close to her body as she prepares for the cold walk of shame that lies ahead. I chuckle; poor bitch.
Next my brother comes trudging down the stairs, looking more tired than I’ve seen him in a long time.
“Hey, do I finally get my room back, little bro?” I ask him, teasing and annoying as ever.
“Shut the fuck up,” he eloquently responds before stretching out his hand to grasp the cup of coffee I offer him.
“Y’know we’re in deep shit when the ‘rents get home tonight, right?” I point out.
“Correction,” he responds, “YOU are in deep shit when they get home tonight. Because according to Ray’s mom, I would have been over at his house last night; studying my ass off like the perfect student mom and dad think I am. That leaves YOU as the only person who could have POSSIBLY thrown a wild party last night.” He smirks at me before disappearing out the door, leaving his bags and schoolwork behind (not that he planned on actually attending school anyway). Little shit.
I chug the rest of my (now slightly cooler) coffee before bolting upstairs to my room, bursting through the door, and having my nose assaulted with the smell of sex and cheap perfume. With a fleeting glance I check the state of my bed before delving into my closet; messed up sheets, lipstick and eyeliner on my pillow, unexplained stains all over the (previously unexposed) mattress; all of this an unfortunately recurring theme lately.
Rummaging through my closet I find black, black, and (guess what!) more black. Looks like my outfit’s going to match my hair today- not that I minded. It would be shocking if I wasn’t wearing black. But maybe I should change my hair color…
Slipping my combat boots on, I hastily grab my bag from the opposite side of the room from where I knew I put it the night before. Sliding one strap on my shoulder, I leap out the door, barely stopping long enough to lock up the house before I continue down the street.
Walking at a fast clip, I reach school just as the bell is about to ring, but not before Mikey’s cronies corner me.
“Where you going, little guy?” Ray asks as he backs me against the wall, Bob and Matt egging him on with little cheers of, “Get ’em, Ray!” and, “Take ‘em, Toro!”
“P-p-please don’t hurt me, Ray,” I manage to quiver out pathetically.
“Oh, I won’t hurt you,” he croons, as he’s standing tall and menacing over me. “Much,” he adds with a sadistic smile.
~~~
Bruised and cut, I walk into first period math ten minutes late.
“So nice of you to join us, Mr. Way,” Mr. Kepler addresses me without turning away from the board.
“I-I’m s-sorry I-“
“I don’t care why you’re late, Mr. Way, now sit down.” Mr. Kepler says as he finishes the last few numbers of the long equation he had written on the board.
Quickly, I take one of the two empty seats in the back of the class, shuffling through my bag and keeping my head low, allowing my greasy strands of black hair to cover the embarrassment written all over my cheeks. God, I hate people.
As Mr. Kepler turns from the board to the class, the door creaks open, and in walks a shy, short kid with fingerless gloves and a shy smile. Right behind him a woman walks in (presumably his mother), and pulls Mr. Kepler aside for a minute. As the two adults talk, the boy scans the room with his eyes, looking at each person and each person looks at him in turn. Finally, his eyes rest on mine. We stare at each other for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else before his eyes snap to the floor. God, I thought, he’s beautiful.
With one final parting, the woman kisses the boy on the forehead, spins around, and is out the door before anyone could blink.
“Class, I need your attention,” Mr. Kepler says. Like you need to ASK for our attention when all our eyes are already focused on that gorgeous piece of eye candy, I thought.
“This is Frank, he is a new student, so I expect you all to treat him nicely.” He stated before pointing the boy, Frank, to the seat in the back. The seat right next to mine. Holy shit.
Frank makes his way back towards me, and our eyes meet again. This time, he holds my gaze for as long as social norm would state, before turning in his chair towards the board and pretending (like the rest of us) to pay attention. I take this opportunity to sketch him from the few ephemeral glances I could get out of the corner of my eye. And God, he was the most perfect thing to draw; more beautiful than any sculpture of any god by an old master, his jaw simultaneously strong and soft, his thin lips somehow looking so plush and supple, and his beautiful eyes something that nature itself could not have created alone.
The bell rang all too soon, and I had to watch with sad eyes as Frank got up and snuck out the door, slipping out without notice, but not before I could notice the Misfits pin on his jacket. Thank god, I thought as I gathered my things, at least we’ll have something to talk about.
As I head for the door, a hand pulls me by the collar over to the teacher’s desk, plucking me from the rush of bodies trying to slam through the door all at once. Before I knew what was happening, I was spun around to meet the very angry face of Mr. Kepler in uncomfortably close proximity to my own.
“We need to talk, Mr. Way,” he said menacingly, leaning impossibly closer to my face. “Meet me after school.” And with that, I was shoved back into the churning mass of people attempting to funnel through the door into the cold, equally crowded halls of high school.
Great, I thought to myself. The first day has barely begun, and I’m ALREADY in trouble. And the party on top of this?! Mom is not going to let me hear the end of this…
~~~
A/N:
i wrote this really early in the morning, so let me know if there are any mistakes i should fix :D
The next morning I arise to the obnoxious beeping of my alarm clock, which I immediately turn off. I swing my legs carelessly over the side of my bed, trying to rub the sleep and blurriness from my eyes, and trudge up the stairs to the living room. Carefully picking my way across the carnage of the party, I finally make it to the kitchen to put some coffee in the machine.
The coffee machine finishes and I sip at the scorching, bitter liquid until my tongue and throat are raw. Out of the corner of my eye I see Mikey’s latest catch sneaking down the stairs and tiptoeing towards the door, hugging her jacket close to her body as she prepares for the cold walk of shame that lies ahead. I chuckle; poor bitch.
Next my brother comes trudging down the stairs, looking more tired than I’ve seen him in a long time.
“Hey, do I finally get my room back, little bro?” I ask him, teasing and annoying as ever.
“Shut the fuck up,” he eloquently responds before stretching out his hand to grasp the cup of coffee I offer him.
“Y’know we’re in deep shit when the ‘rents get home tonight, right?” I point out.
“Correction,” he responds, “YOU are in deep shit when they get home tonight. Because according to Ray’s mom, I would have been over at his house last night; studying my ass off like the perfect student mom and dad think I am. That leaves YOU as the only person who could have POSSIBLY thrown a wild party last night.” He smirks at me before disappearing out the door, leaving his bags and schoolwork behind (not that he planned on actually attending school anyway). Little shit.
I chug the rest of my (now slightly cooler) coffee before bolting upstairs to my room, bursting through the door, and having my nose assaulted with the smell of sex and cheap perfume. With a fleeting glance I check the state of my bed before delving into my closet; messed up sheets, lipstick and eyeliner on my pillow, unexplained stains all over the (previously unexposed) mattress; all of this an unfortunately recurring theme lately.
Rummaging through my closet I find black, black, and (guess what!) more black. Looks like my outfit’s going to match my hair today- not that I minded. It would be shocking if I wasn’t wearing black. But maybe I should change my hair color…
Slipping my combat boots on, I hastily grab my bag from the opposite side of the room from where I knew I put it the night before. Sliding one strap on my shoulder, I leap out the door, barely stopping long enough to lock up the house before I continue down the street.
Walking at a fast clip, I reach school just as the bell is about to ring, but not before Mikey’s cronies corner me.
“Where you going, little guy?” Ray asks as he backs me against the wall, Bob and Matt egging him on with little cheers of, “Get ’em, Ray!” and, “Take ‘em, Toro!”
“P-p-please don’t hurt me, Ray,” I manage to quiver out pathetically.
“Oh, I won’t hurt you,” he croons, as he’s standing tall and menacing over me. “Much,” he adds with a sadistic smile.
~~~
Bruised and cut, I walk into first period math ten minutes late.
“So nice of you to join us, Mr. Way,” Mr. Kepler addresses me without turning away from the board.
“I-I’m s-sorry I-“
“I don’t care why you’re late, Mr. Way, now sit down.” Mr. Kepler says as he finishes the last few numbers of the long equation he had written on the board.
Quickly, I take one of the two empty seats in the back of the class, shuffling through my bag and keeping my head low, allowing my greasy strands of black hair to cover the embarrassment written all over my cheeks. God, I hate people.
As Mr. Kepler turns from the board to the class, the door creaks open, and in walks a shy, short kid with fingerless gloves and a shy smile. Right behind him a woman walks in (presumably his mother), and pulls Mr. Kepler aside for a minute. As the two adults talk, the boy scans the room with his eyes, looking at each person and each person looks at him in turn. Finally, his eyes rest on mine. We stare at each other for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else before his eyes snap to the floor. God, I thought, he’s beautiful.
With one final parting, the woman kisses the boy on the forehead, spins around, and is out the door before anyone could blink.
“Class, I need your attention,” Mr. Kepler says. Like you need to ASK for our attention when all our eyes are already focused on that gorgeous piece of eye candy, I thought.
“This is Frank, he is a new student, so I expect you all to treat him nicely.” He stated before pointing the boy, Frank, to the seat in the back. The seat right next to mine. Holy shit.
Frank makes his way back towards me, and our eyes meet again. This time, he holds my gaze for as long as social norm would state, before turning in his chair towards the board and pretending (like the rest of us) to pay attention. I take this opportunity to sketch him from the few ephemeral glances I could get out of the corner of my eye. And God, he was the most perfect thing to draw; more beautiful than any sculpture of any god by an old master, his jaw simultaneously strong and soft, his thin lips somehow looking so plush and supple, and his beautiful eyes something that nature itself could not have created alone.
The bell rang all too soon, and I had to watch with sad eyes as Frank got up and snuck out the door, slipping out without notice, but not before I could notice the Misfits pin on his jacket. Thank god, I thought as I gathered my things, at least we’ll have something to talk about.
As I head for the door, a hand pulls me by the collar over to the teacher’s desk, plucking me from the rush of bodies trying to slam through the door all at once. Before I knew what was happening, I was spun around to meet the very angry face of Mr. Kepler in uncomfortably close proximity to my own.
“We need to talk, Mr. Way,” he said menacingly, leaning impossibly closer to my face. “Meet me after school.” And with that, I was shoved back into the churning mass of people attempting to funnel through the door into the cold, equally crowded halls of high school.
Great, I thought to myself. The first day has barely begun, and I’m ALREADY in trouble. And the party on top of this?! Mom is not going to let me hear the end of this…
~~~
A/N:
i wrote this really early in the morning, so let me know if there are any mistakes i should fix :D