Gerard had met him four years ago, when Gerard was fifteen, and he was just a little older. It was everything that drugged up teenage Gerard Way could have dreamed of, and perhaps even just a little more, but by no means was it ever anything special, yet still it was just enough to preoccupy his mind no less than four years later in a completely new town.

Because they'd broken up: it had ended at least twenty times by now, but despite that, despite every spited, meaningful insult, nothing could ever quite really be physical enough to actually keep Gerard from thinking about him.

He wasn't even that beautiful, he wasn't even that special, in fact there was absolutely nothing special about Gerard’s kind of boyfriend back in their old town. In fact, the guy was kind of messy, unkempt and intoxicated at the best of times, but four years ago, much the same could be said for Gerard, but now, he'd like to say that things had changed a little.

He'd lost the awkward stubble at the very least, and the zombie look in sleepless eyes, and the plethora of dark red bruises left around his collarbones: sometimes hickeys, sometimes not. But the same could be said for him.

Him.

It almost felt ominous, like Gerard's boyfriend was some sort of great overshadowing figure to be feared and not a twenty year old stoner named Bert McCracken, who was barely making it through college in the next town over.

He wasn't anything special, and they both knew it, but still, Gerard was 'obsessed', Gerard cared and Gerard fretted over ever little aspect of their 'relationship', because it was always there, at least to some extent, and distance hadn't proved to break that, at least not yet anyway.

Gerard had sent Bert some sort of awkward good morning text about an hour ago, despite the knowledge that Bert absolutely never got up before eleven, even when college was involved, because hey, the guy just didn't care, and Gerard couldn't help but admit that he liked that about him.

It was always so casual, so easy, and most of the time the two were both far too intoxicated to even notice the world around them, and Gerard really did like that, but this was withdrawal, because Bert was a drug of sorts, and not just a supplier, and hey finding where to get drugs in this town was proving to be an awfully big pain in the ass.

Bert just didn't really care: he and Gerard talked everything through, and Bert just gave a drunken nod in response, no matter whether it was 'do you want anything from Starbucks?' or 'can I fuck this hot guy I met at a party last night?'. Bert didn't much see the point in the traditional aspects of 'relationships' or the traditional aspects of anything whatsoever: everything was a bit unorthodox with him and for the rebellion hungry teenager, it had been exactly what he'd needed.

They'd met at a party.

Fifteen year old Gerard Way didn't tend to frequent parties, but Jeph had talked him into it: something about being his best friend and that girl in their English class that had asked Gerard on a date last week, and Jeph had felt personally offended when Gerard declined.

Gerard didn't tend to get invited on dates, and especially not by pretty girls who liked the shitty ass poetry the teacher made him read out in class, but maybe Gerard didn't want to go on dates with pretty girls who liked poetry and always arrived to class on time.

It wasn't the girls thing, though.

Gerard wasn't gay. Hell, Gerard hadn't had the slightest reminiscent of a clue as to what he was at the ripe old age of fifteen, needless to say, Bert had helped a little; it wasn't Bert directly, though, and more of the places Bert had taken him to, the people Bert had introduced him to, and the kind of orgies that a sixteen year old kid should never have been involved in.

But now, age nineteen, Gerard could just about, somewhat confidently, say that he was pansexual, and horribly attracted to Bert McCracken, despite the distance, and the way he stunk all the time, and that stupid kind of beard, kind of stubble, and the grease in his hair, and the way he couldn't even remember what the guy was like sober, but Gerard still liked him. Gerard wasn't sure why, but he owed him an awful lot, that was for sure.

The party they'd met at was exactly the kind of thing that Gerard had grown to hate: the kind of thing in those teen movies with the red cups and assholes around every corner, but entirely far more drugs, and definitely a couple of prostitutes in there somewhere.

Jeph knew that Gerard didn't want to be there at all, and Gerard knew that Jeph only wanted him there so he could provide him with moral support when the girls he asked to make out with him inevitably rejected him, but Jeph wasn't quite as cruel enough as to just leave poor fifteen year old Gerard Way stood awkwardly by the drinks table, drinking the night away until he inevitably rotted away of alcohol poisoning: fifteen year old Gerard Way was somewhat of a lightweight, to say the least.

So, Jeph had introduced him to a friend, and that was exactly how Gerard had come to spend his first night with Bert McCracken.

Bert was the opposite of shy, and drunk, but not drunk: Bert had never been a lightweight and was pretty much in control of what he was doing, except just a little more irrational than he should have been, and that was exactly what Gerard needed that night, because Jeph had gotten unfortunately lucky and Gerard didn't see him again until maths class on Monday morning.

It was alright though, because Bert was alright, and an absolute expert at making Gerard blush, and well, let's just say that Jeph wasn't the only one that got lucky that weekend.

Gerard didn't talk to Jeph anymore: something about getting sober last year that neither Bert nor Gerard had particularly agreed with at the time, and then some fight that Gerard could even remember. Eighteen year old Gerard could only remember the nosebleed and the blood on his boyfriend's face as the front door slammed behind Jeph and he grew the courage to make his way back downstairs.

Bert had told him that it was alright, but Gerard wasn't convinced, and he'd insisted that they went to the hospital, Bert got angry: angry, and come ten minutes later, Gerard's face kind of looked like Bert's. 

Eighteen year old Gerard Way ran home and didn't speak to nineteen year old Bert McCracken for a good two weeks, but it was inevitable: they'd met again at the park - Gerard had gone out for a cigarette and some time to think: his dad had just left his mum, and well things weren't exactly 'easy' at home, and as Bert sat down on the bench beside him with biggest smile and the most believable apology that he'd seen all week, Gerard had taken him back within seconds.

And that was just how it had always been, and they were both more than okay with, despite its obvious flaws: at least for the most part anyway.

Nineteen year old Gerard Way glanced at his cellphone as it vibrated against the kitchen countertop: a stupid place to leave it when he was making coffee within centimetres of it, and well, Gerard wasn't exactly the most coordinated of people in the morning, but somehow this time, God had taken enough pity upon him to ensure that his cellphone remained unscathed.

He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening a little as he saw that Bert had actually texted him back: the two hadn't spoke in a week, because well, Bert wasn't exactly thrilled to hear the news that his on and off boyfriend of just about four years was moving away from him, but it became apparent that they'd gotten to the apology stage now.

The message was so typically Bert that Gerard reckoned he could have identified it even without the contact name displayed above it: 'morning beautiful. how's the shithole? you're missing me, I know you are. tell me if the prostitutes are as good as they are at home'.

And really, Gerard just couldn't help but smile, giving his coffee a stir, before abandoning it to text his almost boyfriend back.

'It's almost afternoon, asshole. It's kinda shit and yeah I miss you. Unfortunately I haven't had any encounters with prostitutes yet.' 

And Gerard opted for a couple of kisses on the end of his message: it was just flirting, but it was far too mundane for Bert, who much preferred to call hand jobs under the table at family dinners flirting, as opposed to a couple of 'x's at the end of a text message, but, it'd do.

'I knew you would hate it - see I was right when I told you not to go. I miss you lots though.'

Bert even returned Gerard's gesture with a couple more kisses and some weird emoji that Bert had definitely deemed sexual before sending.

'Yeah I guess so.'

Gerard wasn't quite sure what to make of this town yet; he'd hardly been here for any time at all, but in comparison to his hometown and Bert's apartment, it looked like hell itself.

'I have college in ten minutes so I'll call you when I get back and we'll talk properly. I love you sweetheart.'

And with the heart emoji that Bert McCracken most definitely didn't give out like it was nothing, Gerard was head over heels once again, and he even smiled at prospect of living out the rest of the day: what could he say - Bert McCracken did strange fucking things to him.

-

Frank Iero was growing increasingly tired with his life and the monotonous beat of existence: he was over school and the daily routine and being nobody: he wasn’t hated, he wasn't a target of bullies, he wasn't anything, he wasn't noticed at all - he was just that short kid who was friends with the guy with the afro.

That was exactly all that Frank Iero was, and exactly all he'd ever be.

And now, this sounds like a perfect opportunity to run in with an 'Until...' and reel off some cheesy unbelievable statement about his whole neighbourhood blowing up or something, and really, it was awfully close to going just like that, but for some reason, it didn't, and it wasn't going to be as easy as that.

Frank Iero texted his friend Ray Toro about skipping school entirely, and Ray, being Ray told him 'no, absolutely not', and Frank being Frank found himself innately inclined to go against every word he said, but his mum was yelling at him to get dressed from downstairs, and with a great deal of reluctance, he pulled his clothes on and made his way downstairs, grabbing some form of breakfast on his way out the front door, and met Ray Toro in person at the street corner no less than three minutes later.

This was much the same everyday, and honestly, Frank didn't even know what he wanted from life, but the one thing that he knew for certain was that he didn't want this.

"You're not going to skip school today." Ray told him in person this time, perhaps just to enforce the message, and Frank only shrugged it off, saying very little in return and leaving Ray to continue the conversation for the sake of saving them the awkwardness. "I met this girl last week, I think you'd like to meet her-"

And just like that, Frank had given up on his sanity completely, just looking his best friend in the eye and telling him the most truthful thing he'd said in the last five years. "I'm gay."

Ray was a little taken a back, and well, Frank was quite honestly surprised that Pete hadn't told everyone by this point, but perhaps Mikey Way's existence had simply sent him into cardiac arrest and he'd died before he could tell anyone.

Frank laughed at the notion of Pete dying: it seemed ridiculous - Pete was the kind of guy that when faced with death would probably just look him in the eye and say "no", or something ridiculously Pete like "bagsy not me, try the guy next door who stole my bike ten years ago", and with Pete's ridiculous luck, it would probably work.

Because if Pete Wentz could get people to willingly have sex with him, he most likely possessed the power to be immortal.

"O...Okay..." Ray's response was a little delayed, but Frank was far too amused with the mental image of Pete straight out refusing to die, that he couldn't even care. "That's okay with me."

"Good, okay, just wanted to get that off my chest." Frank gave a little shrug of his shoulders as he quickened his pace and continued walking to school. 

-

Lindsey couldn't figure out for the life of her as to why on earth Frank Iero had joined the football team.

She was only vaguely aware of his existence, and up until all of ten minutes ago, he'd been nothing more than that short kid stood in the corner looking like he'd rather kill himself than be here, but when she'd pointed him out to Jamia, she'd learned that he was in fact Frank Iero, and that he was in fact in her English class - not that she'd ever actually noticed him before, but then again, Lindsey didn't tend to pay all that much attention in school.

"Why is he here if he looks like he hates it so much?" Lindsey whispered to Jamia: her eyes remaining almost fixated upon poor Frank, stood in the corner of the football pitch, shivering in a football kit that was far too big for him.

"Oh come on, Lindsey." Jamia just rolled her eyes at her best friend; the two of them were sat on the edge of bleachers, shivering a little and just trying to show even a vague interest in the football game before them.

Honestly, the cheer squad did barely anything for the amount of credit they got for it: it was some sort of formation with pom-poms and some sort of chant that some fuckwit on the football team had come up with every time anyone scored a goal, and considering the actual intelligence of the fuckwits on the football team, that most certainly did not happen often, and well, Lindsey and Jamia had been sat here in vague conversation for the past fifteen minutes.

"What?" Lindsey's eyes widened in response to the rather vague opinion Jamia had expressed a few moments earlier.

"Everyone knows that the majority of the guys here are here for you." And not only did Jamia know this fact like she knew anything, she fucking hated it more than she could ever fathom, but of course, with the way she felt towards Lindsey, she couldn't exactly blame them either.

Lindsey was fucking hot - there was no question about that, whatsoever.

"Well... that's debatable, but, I've been staring at the kid for like the past five minutes now, and not once has he ever made eye contact with me: he's here for another reason, but fuck me if I know." And really, Jamia would very much love to provide Lindsey with the knowledge necessary to take her up upon that offer.

But Lindsey was unfortunately straight, and Jamia was just unfortunately in love with her, and Frank, the kid shivering on the corner of the football pitch - he was just unfortunate.

"The game's going to end in a few minutes - how about you just ask him?" Jamia suggested, just praying that this one conversation wouldn't end up with Lindsey dating him, because well, with Lindsey's history, that wasn't exactly to be unexpected, but fucking hell, Jamia reckoned she'd rather shove a croquet mallet up her ass than deal with another of Lindsey's fuckboy boyfriends.

But at the very least, they didn't seem to last long anyway... Lindsey usually dumped them before Jamia was brought to the point of manslaughter, anyway.

"I'll just call him over now - no one's going to miss him there, and from the looks of it, I think I'll be doing him a favour." Lindsey's face ignited with a grin that Jamia had just learned to fear, because this was another one of her ideas, and well, it was only Monday, and Jamia was not ready for this shit: not at all. 

"Hey, Frank!" She raised her voice, causing the kid to turn around, and practically die on the spot as he came to realise that Lindsey Ballato was calling him over. Frank glanced back at the football pitch, before shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that vaguely translated as 'fuck it', and made his way over to Lindsey and Jamia.

"Uhh... hi." This was the first conversation Frank'd had with Lindsey throughout the entire duration of his life, and well, to say the least, he was more than a little confused as to why there had even been a first.

"Why are you here?" Lindsey asked rather bluntly, moving up and gesturing for Frank to sit between her and Jamia. Frank felt just a little obliged to do as she said, because well, it was Lindsey, and he still had absolutely no fucking idea as to why he was talking to her, let alone what he was supposed to answer her question with.

"I-I-I... I-" 

Jamia let out a deep sigh, interrupting Frank before he could embarrass himself further. "She wants to know what the hell you're doing on the football team when you look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

"Exactly!" Lindsey chimed in, over exaggerating her words as she spoke. "You can't fucking play, and you're not here to stare at me, because I've been staring at you for the past five minutes and not once did you notice me, so- there's no explanation- I... you have to be a masochist!"

"Uhh... I don't know what that is." Frank uttered out in perhaps the most awkward manner anyone had ever spoke in before.

"Basically you get off on making yourself suffer- it's like... getting punched in the face and having a wank over it- well that's kind of extreme, but like... you're on this football team because-"

"My mum made me do it." Frank finished for her: his cheeks a horrible shade of red in response to Lindsey Ballato's overly casual approach to the discussion of masturbation, because, sure he was gay, but this was still Lindsey fucking Ballato, and Frank still wasn't sure if this was some fucked up dream where he'd end up getting punched in the face by Lindsey and being forced to get off on it... and all with Jamia just sat there.

"Yeah, that explains it." Lindsey let out a sigh, rolling her eyes a little. "I'm kind of disappointed actually, I've never met a masochist before, and I think it would be rather interesting- are you sure-"

"I'm positive."

"Yeah, shut up, you're not a pregnancy test, Frank." Lindsey grinned, before her face fell, her eyes widening a little. "I did take that pregnancy test at yours the other day, didn't I, Jamia? Because I was fucking stoned and I'm-"

"You did... you're not pregnant, Lindsey: if you were, don't you think I would have brought it up by now?" Jamia grimaced a little at the notion of Lindsey being pregnant, because maybe she could tolerate the fuckboy boyfriends for short periods of time, but fuckboy spawn? No fucking chance, and she doubted that Lindsey would still be her best friend if Jamia murdered her child.

"Uhh..." Frank's cheeks flushed red with the information that he probably wasn't supposed to know. "Can I go now?"

"No." Lindsey answered him outright and without a moment's thought.

"Why not?"

"Because if you feel like you have to ask for permission, you're going to listen to me if I say no." Jamia rolled her eyes at Lindsey, because this fucking psychology bullshit again, and still, somehow, despite all the shit Lindsey put her through, Jamia was still furiously attracted to her. "I feel like this conversation didn't really achieve much: I now know that your mum's a pushy mum, but- hey... hey, Jamia? Hey...." Lindsey smirked that smirk that signified the formation of an idea in her mind, and Jamia was already scared.

"What?"

"That party. He can be your date-" And needless to say, that was an idea that both Frank and Jamia protested to.

"Uhh... I'd rather not." Frank blushed, but kept true to himself, because no hetero, man, no fucking hetero.

"What happened to the asking me for permission to leave attitude?" Lindsey pouted in a way that left Frank unable to determine whether she was being serious or not. "Anyway, why not?"

"I'm gay." This was the third person he'd told this week: seriously, Frank Iero was on a fucking homosexuality roll here.

"Okay, do you have a boyfriend then, because there's a guy I owe a favour to, and-"

"You can't prostitute him in return for favours." Jamia piped up, after recovering from the presence of another homosexual, because, fuck, she really wished she could just say it like that: just come out to Lindsey like it was nothing and never be forced to endure the hells of heteronormativity again, but of course, it was never that easy.

"You can hook me up with a guy?" Frank was almost reluctant to believe it, and was only now beginning to understand just how much of a freaking goddess Lindsey was.

"Several, in fact- not at the same time, unless, well- I know people, I know gay people, and Frank, you have been added to my web of homosexual connections, of which I am the matchmaking spider." And it was metaphors like this that proved just how little attention Lindsey paid in English classes.

"I don't like spiders." Frank found his excellent social skills acting before his sanity, once again.

"Don't be rude." Lindsey rolled her eyes, pulling her cellphone out of her pocket to check the time. "Look, give me your number and I'll see what I can do."

"I-I..." Giving girls his number was not a situation Frank Iero had ever expected to be in, and he found himself utterly dumbstruck as Lindsey continued to stare at him like he was some sort of attraction in a freak show.

"I'm not psychic, you're gonna have to type it in yourself." Lindsey passed Frank her cellphone, and still, he was practically frozen on the spot.

"Come on, do you want to get laid or not? I haven't got all day." And with that, Lindsey stood up, making her way towards the changing rooms to get ready for her next lesson, leaving Jamia to watch as Frank painstakingly typed his number in and gave the phone to Jamia.

"Sorry... she's a bit... well... you know..." Jamia let out a sigh, and another as she came to realise just how often she found herself apologising for Lindsey's existence.

"It's fine, I'm not used to girls actually talking to me... and well... I'm not good at doing straight things like giving girls my numbers... I guess."

"Don't worry, I'm not good at straight things either." And with a wink, and Lindsey's phone in her hands, Jamia left too, but she had to take a quick detour to have a homosexual breakdown in the toilets before she could actually bring herself to face Lindsey again.

And well, Frank, Frank sat there smirking like hell, because this was the kind of anecdote that would give Pete Wentz a freaking heart attack when he told him, and there was nothing more than Frank loved in this world than causing Pete Wentz extreme emotional pain.

-

hey look im actually writing this look another chapter im really excited about this fic thats so great and im very glad that you like it because i tried far too hard to try and come up with a decent fic idea and now im very happy with this and that is great and this is like gerard's life story: the chapter but ok thanks pete im quite tired i love you all a lot and votes and comments and things would be cool ok bye bye <3