The World is Ugly (Frerard)

1: Mama we all go to hell

Hold on, don't look back

You know we're better, we're better than that

"Ouch!" I scream, rubbing my head in excruciating pain.

"Oh, come on! I didn't even swing that hard, Frankie" says the platinum-haired asshole I happen to have as a best friend, holding the murder weapon.

You'd think that after a whole semester of practicing baseball he'd have improved enough not to hit me instead of the ball, but nope. With Gerard, logic never seems to apply.

I walk away from him, pissed off. However, I don't get far before I feel a hand fall on my shoulder, stopping me. I sigh and turn around.

"What do you want?" I ask, annoyed.

"Ooh I'm sorreh, Frankie. Did I hurt you?" Gerard's face is so close to mine that all I can see are his puppy eyes and mock pout.

"Fuck off, Arthur" I say, shaking his hand off, because I know how much he hates being called by his second name.

He rolls his eyes. "Come here, let's get you to the nurse's office".

"What's the problem now, guys?" asks the nurse, who already knows us all too well from all the times we've dropped by her office over the years.

"Hi, Lindsey" I greet her "Well, you see, this dork over here forgot what a ball looks like, so just decided to hit my head instead" I glare at Gerard to emphasize my words. She looks at Gerard for confirmation, but he just chuckles and shakes his head.

"Okay then" Lindsey says, getting up from her chair. "Let's get you checked, Frank. Shall we?"

---------------

I'm kind of disappointed when she lets us go, saying it was nothing serious, because it hurts like a motherfucker.

"God I hate PE" I inform Gerard as we walk back to class.

"Don't we all?" he asks rhethorically, looking up at the cloudy sky. Lately, it feels like that's it's permanent state, and I'm starting to get tired of the rain. With all that water, I seem to be unable not to fall facefirst into mud puddles whenever there is one around, and that I'm not really into. Besides, the flood has already killed half the plants on my precious garden.

Splash

A fat raindrop takes me out of my train of thoughts as it splatters on my face. I turn to Gerard, to see if he felt it too, but he's still staring up. He has his left arm extended, palm held up and a stupid grin on his face. Of course, Gerard loves the rain. Two more fat water drops hit my face, and I place my hand on my forehead in an attempt to stop them from getting into my eyes. I shiver as a cool breeze crosses the roofless corridor, and Gerard seems to notice.

"How come don't you ever bring yours, Frankie" He scolds me as he starts to take off his jacket. Since I'm too cold to come up with a good sarcastic answer, I just mumble a quick 'thank you' as I take it.

I wiggle it on and am grateful for the remaining body heat. Wait. How is it even warm? Gerard's skin is always as cold as a vampire's, so I must really be dying of hypothermia to feel heat from him. Oh well. If I die now, at least I won't have to go back to PE...

Unfortunately, I'm not dead by the time we reach the entrance to the field. Gerard and I just stop for a while and stare at the whole place, taking it all in. We stay like that for a full minute.

"Well, are you ready to go back to hell?" he asks, breaking the silence. I'm not. I'm so not ready to go back, but what can I do about it?. I let out a little sigh, taking Gerard's arm in mine for support, and look at him.

"Let's go, before I change my mind about it." I say.

We enter the field.

---------------

After two strenuous hours of baseball, we're finally free to go change into our normal outfits. As always, Gerard and I sneak out a few seconds early to get a headstart. Lucky for us, the dressing rooms are far away from the baseball field, so if we run fast enough, we are able to get about a whole minute to change before they arrive as well.

Gerard runs in front of me, his gray-white hair soaking wet from both, the rain and the sweat. We've still a long way to go, but our timing is good. At this pace, we might get there sooner than expected, and we might even get enough spare time to grab a bite before our next class, if we're lucky.

However, I'm not lucky. I never am, so about halfway there, the long gym bag I'm carrying begins to fucking tilt sideways. I keep running, without realizing that the  bag has a fucking strap, which of course has to tangle itself around my clumsy feet, making me fall face first into a puddle of mud, because why not. I try to get up, but the floor is too slippery for me to stand up properly, so I end up on the ground again.

"Gerard" I call in a low voice, but he doesn't seem to notice, because he keeps running. Fuck I think, as I finally am able to steady myself. I manage to wipe some of the mud off my eyes as I get on my feet and resume my jogging, but it's already too late. I know it from the moment I hear heavy footsteps coming from behind me. Then voices. Those voices. I'd recognize them anywhere.

"Hey look! There's our Frankie!" one of them calls. No, I'm not. Go away. Fuck.

I keep moving.

"Yeah, you're right!" Asshole number two replies, and then: "But why is he running?" He asks his buddy.

"Hey Frankie, come back here! We want to talk to you". Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, big guy. I pick up the pace.

"That's not very polite of you, Frankie" says the first meathead, dragging the 'a'. I keep on running as fast as I can.

"Well then, in that case we'll have to come and get you".

My breaths get shorter as their footsteps get faster. And faster. And I swear my feet are moving faster than humanly possible, but I'm still too slow to outrun them. Dammit, short legs! I think to myself, as they begin to feel shakey.

Around twenty feet from the dressing room's door, a pair of meaty hands land heavily on my shoulders.

Shit.

"Stop right there, baby" one of the assholes whispers to my ear. I manage to get a glimpse of Gerard peeking from the doorway, eyes wide with fear before my attacker forces me to turn around and face him, both their bodies blocking my view of the door.

"Get away!" I command Gerard, but my aggressors think I'm talking to them.

"Woah! he speaks" He says, faking surprise. "But I'm afraid that ain't gonna happen, buddy".

Of course not. I never held hopes it would, I am just begging that Gerard listened to my advice and got the hell out of here.

I look up to their faces -about two feet higher than mine-, moving my head slowly. They both glare back at me and grin sadistically in unison. What were their names again? Santiago and... Phil? Phillip? Yeah, that's more like it.

I couldn't have thought of two names that suited them worse.

"You don't really have bully names, you know" I blurt out, without even realizing what I just said. Omg what is wrong with me? I quickly cover my mouth, almost as a reflex. Oh shit. I'm gonna die soon... Me and my irrational mouth.

"What did you say, faggot?" Phillip says, coming even closer and standing taller. I just look up and shrink into myself.

"I'm talking to you Frankie, don't you have manners?" He asks in a disturbingly calm voice.

"I... I" I begin to say, my voice barely audible.