Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

5: You Call Shotgun, I Call It Fate

"Frank?"

I shake my head as a signal for him to leave it. He ignores me and almost reaches out to touch me, wondering if it would help, before recoiling as if realising it's a bad idea. He hesitates before whispering to himself so I can't hear, "I think you will."

"Music, art - that's a good answer," I say, circling back to our previous subject, "see, if you'd have said doctor or lawyer, maybe the world would miss you in the long run. It almost makes me feel better knowing you won't contribute anything decent to society."

"You like music," he argues, "the world would be a pretty horrible place—"

"Like it isn't already?"

He glowers silently. Oh, he probably thinks it's real horrible right now. Truly unfair.

"And believe me," I continue, "it's only gonna get a hell of a lot worse."

>

In The Past

Mikey's a freshman in high-school, starting his first day when he's knocked into a fountain in the corridor, spraying water over his new clothes and knocking his glasses (he's later to get contacts, thank God) off of his nose. It's no accident. He whirls around, eyes wide at his attackers.

"He's too cute." One older boy scoffs, eyeing up the fresh meat. They're here to judge on who's going to be the newest member of their little 'clique'. "You think anyone's going to be intimidated by that face?"

"Give him a chance Alan, won't you? Kid's not even hit puberty but I can see it," another boy butts in, stepping forward and putting one finger under Mikey's chin, forcing his head up, "he's gotta grow up someday. There's a little bit of killer inside of his eyes. Hey kid, you made any friends yet? What's your name?"

"Mikey Way." Mikey nibbles on his lower lip, oblivious to what's going on. "I - I don't have any friends." He hangs his head in shame, backing away.

"Well, that's just fantastic - you'll do fine with us, I'd wager." Boy number one, Alan, wraps a 'friendly' arm around the scrawny freshman, a smile tugging at his lips as they begin to walk down the halls. The others tag behind. Mikey wonders in naïveté why all the other students glare at them in a mixture of hatred and fear and, unbeknownst to him, sympathy for the impressionable kid. "Way, you said? I reckon I know a Way."

"My brother's Gerard," Mikey pipes up, hoping they've heard of him. He very clearly looks up to his older brother.

"Ah, of course," Alan hums in a feigned nice tone. They aren't too familiar with Gerard - he blends in too much for them to get a dig at him. "Does Gerard have any friends?"

Mikey has to think about that one, and then the answer isn't too pleasant. "He doesn't. He - he just studies and... writes music."

"So you don't know anyone around here?" One boy pushes in excitement. He can't wait to show the helpless kid around and get him involved in all their bad deeds - if he doesn't know anyone already, it won't be a personal matter. Mikey's just eating it all up.

The catch is, these aren't stereotypical bullies who have a rough home life where mommy and daddy don't have the time of day for them or each other. They don't resort to violence because they don't have a clever thing in mind to say. These boys are cunning and persuasive, and pass as straight A students trying to find their place in the eyes of teachers - when they're not targeting their next victim, of course.