It All Started With Women's Rights -Frerard-

Friend Conscious

"A friend, ma."

"You don't have friends, tell me the truth."

I heard Mr. Way giggle on the other end, making me almost do the same. She noticed me smile, "Is it a girl?"

"No, Ma. I told you it's a friend."

She ignored me, "Is it a boy? You can always talk to me, your father and I will always accept you-"

"Mom," I whined, "I actually made a friend for once!"

He was in a fit of laughter on the other end, "Cut it out, will you!?"

"Frank Anthony Iero do not use that tone-"

"That wasn't for you, sorry. Give me a sec. Least let me say goodbye." I gave her a pleading look and she sighed, nodding.

"Be down for dinner. It's waiting."

"Alright, Ma." I sighed.

"This is the hardest I've laughed in awhile, Frank. Ah..." He sighed, "'Is it a boy?' That's when I lost it."

"Dammit, Way, my mom is gonna try to talk to me about my sexual orientation now, thanks," I whispered angrily.

He just chuckled, "Have a good night, Frank. Enjoy that dinner for the two of us."

"Who knows," I teased, half kidding, "maybe you can enjoy it yourself one day."

I ended the call and set my phone on my dresser. I went into the bathroom to wash up, washing my hands and splashing water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. My long black hair had been dampened by some rogue water and, huh, funny. My cheeks were bright pink. I grabbed the towel and dried myself off, skipping down the stairs afterward, happy to finally get to eat something that wasn't bile inducing school food.

My mom and dad had already sat down and started eating. The meal tonight was Jenny's Famous Pasta, as my dad called it. I smiled at them, sitting down and digging in. I thanked my mother for the meal, of course, I'm not uncivilized. My mom and dad were quiet, which was trange, because most of our meals were loud and full of emotion. It was when we reflected on our day and laughed about the strange people who came into their shop. From the tense atmosphere, it was like they were going to announce Mom was pregnant, or that someone had died. Both of which seemed unlikely. I looked up at the wrong time from my plate, too. They were both staring at me. My smile faded. I didn't even know I had been.

"Frank, honey, your mom here says you were on the phone with a friend?" My dad started, cautiously.

"Yeah? What about it?" I said, taking another bite.

"Well, what's his name?" He offered.

"Gerard Way," I said, taking a sip out of my soda can.

It was a little on the flat side, but it tasted good nonetheless. I watched them process the name until their gears clicked and they exchanged a look. My mom just looked at her plate and Dad cleared his throat awkwardly, "The- the Creative Writing teacher?"

"Yeah...?" I said, trailing off into a question.

"He's a good man," Mom said quietly, "Not a surprise they bonded."

"Yeah," I smiled, "Everyone hates us. The Hated like each other and then become The Liked. He's cool. He plays classic rock all the time and throws markers at kids who talk while he is. He really likes my work. That's why I called. No one wanted to be my partner for a project, so he offered to be mine. I was telling him my ideas."

"He's nice to you, yeah?" My dad asked.

"Oh, definitely. I'm his favorite student. Even told me. Just today he stood up for me. Some kids tried to get me in trouble for something I didn't do. They had stolen my journal and drawn a picture of him in it with the word 'fag' under it. Needless to say, they all got detention." I chuckled at the memory.

I looked at them and they seemed a little tense, "What? He's not gonna hurt me. Like I said, he's cool. Trust me, guys. If anything were to happen, who would I tell first?"

"Us."

"Yes. So come on, now! Smile! Celebrate, I've finally made a friend. Even if it isn't one of my peers. You've always said I was mature and would probably be better situated with people older than me than of my own age, didn't you?"

They nodded.

The atmosphere started to loosen when Dad started talking about some dude who came in, asking if he knew 'that the president of Birkenstocks had just walked in his store and that we should be bowing down to him'. This town was batshit crazy.

It always made for a good story.