Blush.

Gerard's POV.

“Back again?” James asked me with a warm smile. I nodded my head shamefully and walked to the back of the room to where the paints were.

“Yeah, I am. I ran out of black paint. Again. But hopefully I have enough to buy one of the bigger tubs this time…” I trailed off hopefully.

I picked up one of the over-sized tubs of paint and inspected the price tag. Five dollars short. Fuck. I let out a sigh which matched the frown gracing my face and I placed the tub back on the shelf sadly.

“Not enough?” James enquires.

I look up across the shelves stacked with art supplies and shake my head with what I hoped was a smile that said ‘doesn’t matter. Maybe next time.’

I doubt it did, but I can always hope.

“Nah,” I replied, “Not this time. Five dollars short.”

James frowned slightly and stuck a hand in each pocket of his skinny leg jeans, rustling around for something. After much struggling James produced a five dollar note from one of the pockets.

“Will this help?” he asked, an affectionate smirk across his face. I blushed slightly; he was offering me money so I could paint.

“Uh, James. I can’t take that. You know I can’t,” I mumbled although I was truly touched that he was offering.

“Take the damn five bucks, okay? It’s the least I could do. But if it makes you feel any better I can make you a deal so we both benefit?”

“Sure. What is it?” I asked, curious to know what his request was.

“I want to see all your art. From every last sketch to every last damn painting. I want to see it all. What about that? Is that okay?”

I raised an eyebrow at him and giggled like an eight year old schoolgirl. “Of course. When I’m finished the one I’m working on I’ll come and get you. Promise.”

“Good,” he stated in finality.

I walked over to the counter with my tub of black paint and paid what I could, James putting his five dollars in the till along with my money. He bagged up my purchase and handed it to me, his fingers brushing across mine making me blush a deep crimson.

“Thanks,” I whispered shooting him a tender smile before walking briskly out of the store and into the cold, windy street. I pulled my hoodie tighter around my body and clutched my bag tightly. Walking down the street I nearly tripped like three times which put a huge and definite damper on my mood.

Which got me thinking, who am I? Such a weird thought to be struck up by such a different experience, I know, but that’s what I thought. A simple question that I know I should be able to answer best. Because, well, I am me.

Starting off, easiest of all, my name is Gerard Arthur Way and guess what? I used to have everything. Great big woopdy-fucking-doo.

Girls, money, grades, sport ability, popularity. You name it, I had it. My whole life, I’d always had everything I had ever wanted or asked for, never being denied anything. Some people called me a spoilt little brat but I never thought I was. Not at all, I thought I was just…demanding. But nonetheless, I always used to get my way.

Why don’t I have all that now? Why was I walking home to a dingy apartment I shared with two other guys with barely enough money to pay for rent and food for all of us?

Yeah, I’ll tell you what fucking happened. I met Frank fucking Iero.