Perfect

It was bad, the feeling of killing.

On the day of his birth, they stood around him and it began. That compelling feeling that drew everyone in proximity to his nimble little fingers. Ten fingers, ten toes. A beautiful bouncing baby boy with eyes that melted like butterscotch.

It wasn’t until grade school that maybe anyone noticed that something was…off.

“Gerard likes control,” the teachers wrote home, year after year, notes pinned to his blazers.

“He has a precise way of manipulating the other children into doing what he wants, yet he seems to lack other certain skills normally attained by his age.”

“Members of the faculty have noticed underdevelopment in Gerard’s language and communication skills.”

“Gerard is very bright, but something in his head is keeping him from showing it. He seems to utterly lack any concept of right and wrong.”

With every year of his life, every note sent home, Gerard trapped himself deeper and deeper inside of his intelligence until it only seemed that he was driving himself backwards, years behind in average development. But one look in those butterscotch eyes, and nobody could ever claim that the eldest Way boy was anything but…perfect.

[Waycest/Frerard] One-shot.