Medicate Your Lives (Frerard)

Chapter Three: Frank

I stopped.

There was someone sitting on my swing.

My swing.

Of course, I didn't own it, as it was public property, but everyone knew it was mine. Everyone steered clear of it. I get mad, and I get mad fast, and people know to stay away from me. People that don't know me stay away, simply because I must look intimidating sitting on a child's swing set dressed in all black. In this town, people are suspicious, and for good reason, too. That's fine with me. Stay away from me, I'll stay away from you. I detest interacting with most people either way.

I watched for a moment. The hooded figure was hunched over, elbows on his knees as he gently rocked himself back and forth, his dirty converse pushing into the ground. He seemed to be thinking and blocking out everything around him. I realized that I recognized the skinny jeans and ridiculous jacket. That new kid, Gerard. God, was he annoying. Can't he realize that I don't want to talk?

I stalked up to the swing set after a second of considering what I should do.

"Hey," I somewhat yelled and almost regretted as he started and nearly fell off the swing. "What the hell are you doing here?" Gerard looked up at me with hazel eyes, appearing scared and disoriented.

He stammered. "I- I was j-just, I had nowhere-" I nearly felt bad for him. I decided not to antagonize him any longer and simply plopped down onto the swing next to him, defeated. I changed my mind a lot, along with my mood.

What was I doing? I didn't have friends. I simply didn't - and not because I couldn't find any, but because I chose not to. It was just a fact of life. Frank Iero doesn't have friends. Frank Iero doesn't even have friendly acquaintances. Not even just acquaintances. I simply happened to be surrounded by people for most of the day, never speaking and trying not to make eye contact. They knew not to bother me too much. They knew I was pissed off, three years later.

The worst part was that I used to be friends with all of them. It was freshman year, and everything was great. I was always a little different from all of them and never quite fit in. My group of friends liked to party, while I would rather stay home and play guitar. They liked pop hits of the week and I liked the Misfits, and so on. I simply didn't see the appeal of spending the night (and much of the early morning) "dancing" in a half lit room filled with drunk and probably stoned teenagers. But that didn't matter. We had been friends since elementary school, and we respected each others choices. It wouldn't affect anything. Right?

Wrong.

By the end of the first semester, they abandoned me completely. As if I didn't know what they were doing. I got less invites to parties, less invites to "hang out" at someone's house (stealing from the parents' liquor cabinet and playing some idiotic drinking game), less phone calls, until one night they decided to lure me to the park under the pretense that we would meet there and then go see a movie. I stumbled through the darkness until I heard their voices.

I had never been in a fight before, let alone tried to fend off ten people at once.

News travels fast. The next day, people averted their eyes in the hallways. No one spoke to me. I lost my spot at the lunch table. I had to sit outside, which was partly how I started smoking and getting involved with - well, worse things than that. I wasn't proud of it, and I blamed them. It was their fault. If I hadn't sat outside, I wouldn't have met the people who convinced me to try these things, I wouldn't have almost ended up in jail, I wouldn't be sitting here right now.

I would be happy, maybe.

I reminded myself that I was sitting in a park. On a swing. Next to Gerard. In broad daylight.

"Do you hang out here or something?" Gerard finally spoke up.

"I guess, yeah. Kind of."

"Oh. Sorry, I'm stealing your hiding place."

"Hiding - it's not my hiding place," I said indignantly. "I just sit here sometimes."

We watched as a different woman appeared with two kids in tow. They were heading for the swings. One of the children, a girl, was yelling.

"Mama, look! Look at that bird!" She shrieked, joy evident on her face.

I hate kids.

"Hey, let's get out of here. I don't want to scare them," Gerard said quietly. I gave him a questioning look. "There was a lady here before who left because of me," he explained. I didn't feel like leaving. I didn't care whether we "scared" them or not. But Gerard stood up. "I'm gonna go grab some coffee," he said. "Are you coming?"

I shook my head.

Gerard turned away and started walking.

I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I followed him. Reluctantly, I stood and trailed after him. He stopped when he heard footsteps and waited for me. The small gesture meant more to me than it should have. My old friends used to make me run to catch up with them.

"Where to?" Gerard asked.

"There's a good place just around the corner from here," I said.

"Okay." Gerard offered a tiny smile.

I simply nodded my head.