Lie To Me (Frerard)

23: Bert McCracken Gets Thrown Into A Wall

It was lying, and both Frank and Gerard were experts, and perhaps that skill was never needed more than it was under the watchful eyes of high school gossips, because god no, imagine Frank Iero and Gerard Way dating- fucking hell, imagine that, imagine how much of nobody's business it was, but seriously fucking imagine it.

Frank hated school, and he hated the way his friends- some of the people he hung out with began to suspect that this was something more than just a casual friendship, because this was clichéd as fuck, and Frank Iero was the cool guy who could skateboard and play guitar, hell, he was practically the skater boy from Avril Lavigne's hit single, and Gerard Way was, well, to put it crudely, and as people often did: 'the art fag'.

Frank fucking hated everyone that called Gerard that, and it was proven as a certain fucking asshole fell into step with him as he approached the school gate.

"You don't look particularly happy to see me, Iero." The guy commented all too casually, his laughter amplified with the affects of the pills he'd taken minutes before spotting Frank outside school.

"Maybe I'm not." Frank shrugged off a casual comment in response, because he really wasn't, but the guy would never actually know, and it was proven as he continued to laugh along in response, and leaving Frank to roll his eyes once again.

"Anyway, you want to take some pills with me in the bathroom before French, because well, I think that would make it a little more interesting: a little less 'hon hon mi baguette', and a little more 'hon hon mi baked'."

"Bert, that was the most tragic pun I have ever had the misfortunate of experiencing." It was early in the morning, and yes, Frank Iero was going to be blunt as hell because the guy was already high enough just to continue to laugh along with anything he said whatsoever.

"Your mum is the most tragic thing I've ever had the misfortunate of experiencing." He countered, and Frank reckoned that such a pathetic response didn't even deserve a reply. "Anyway, how's your little art fag boyfriend?"

Frank exhaled with just a little too much irritation at the use of the word 'fag', and at the use of the word 'boy': Gerard was neither of those things. "Gerard's not my boyfriend." And this was wonderful, because technically, Frank wasn't even lying, not that he'd really have much of a problem when it came to lying to Bert McCracken.

Frank did also kind of want to mention that one time Bert had relentlessly hit on Gerard in a miniskirt when he didn't know who they really were, but that served as the motivation to keep Frank going until he actually saw Gerard that day.

"Whatever you say, fag." Bert's tone was light-hearted, almost as if he was joking, but needless to say, Frank did not find it funny at all.

"You seriously going to call me that?" Frank snapped, turning to Bert and stopping him in the corridor.

"You seriously going to keep that art fag around as your little pet forever? It's getting tiring, Frankie." Bert laughed again, and Frank continued stubbornly in his solid belief that it was not funny. 

"You're going to want to shut up right fucking now, Bert." Frank's temper was slowly dissolving around him, and well, as Bert had said, he had French first, and he couldn't imagine how badly that was going to go at all.

"Am I? Faggot-" Bert finished that sentence slammed against the corridor wall with an resonating thud, grabbing the attention of everyone in the vicinity as something in Bert's body made a horrible cracking sound and he tore a quick and painful 'fuck' from his lips.