The entire room went quiet when he stepped in. Not like it had been buzzing with activity beforehand. But the boy entered the room and we all turned and looked, we all took him in, some of us drowning him out and marking him off as a nobody. But I stayed, studying his face and the way he floated in the door. I found him intriguing. I've always had a thing for nobodies.
The first thing I noticed was that this kid was quiet. His eyes were big and worried. He had a round, pale face, with black hair sitting on top of his head, that swooped around his eyes and rested on his eyelashes. He walked into class, clutching his bookbag to his chest and eyeing everyone up and down with fear, as if at any second, someone would spring up and punch him. He didn't say anything. He just glided over to the empty seat behind me and sat quietly, setting his bag on the floor and pulling out a binder as slow as possible, like he didn't want the plastic cover to bump against anything and make noise. He nestled into the seat and I could see now that he had a little extra chub around his middle. He was wearing the school uniform, which clearly didn't frame his body that well. The white dress shirt, black pants and black tie, reducing each human to a small stitch in the tapestry of school conformity. We were all little tiny atoms, you see, little organs that operated in this massive machine of self destruction and ignorance. The school was a part of it, the government was a part of it, I was a part of it, my parents were a part of it, and fuck, so was this new kid huddled in the corner doodling on a sheet of paper.
There was one thing, though. This kid had fucking red shoelaces. Red shoelaces sticking out from his black socks and dress shoes.
I mean I had always made sure to keep my nails black, eyes black, hair black and worn black Chuck Taylors when I could get away with it, but this, this was bigger than any of that. This was a revolution. Fucking red shoelaces goddamit.
The teacher had said his name when he entered class. Said he transferred from New Jersey to this stupid place. Started with a G...
"Gerard." Mr. Radke's booming voice woke me up from my internal hypothesizing. "It's your first day, how about you get the first question?" His smile was transparent and damaged as he said some big number and then left the question to hang in the air. The new kid kind of jolted in his seat and looked up from his paper, displaying a sharp nose. He looked at the teacher like a deer in the headlights, while Mr. Radke repeated the question. "How many significant figures in 23.0703?"
Gerard shook in his seat, his eyes moving all over the place, even landing on me for a while, before darting back to the board and muttering the answer. "6"
"Correct," Radke said, turning around and scrawling something on the board. This was all useless. School was babysitting.
Gerard looked down at whatever he was drawing and withdrew his mind from the rest of the class. I studied him the whole time, watching how he chewed on his nails and stared at his paper before he erases, how he second guesses himself.
A familiar itch began to find its way into my head at this point in the class. The smooth drag of smoke sliding past my tongue and down into my lungs, filling me up so I could blow it out again. I'd been sneaking Marlboros between classes for the past 3 years, it wasn't anything new. It was just one of those things I did. My own little rebellion that no one else knew about, except myself. Each puff was a silent fuck-you to the catholic chains that held my ass down at this fucking corporation of a school.
Radke had learned soon enough not to bother anymore with me, and really let me do whatever I felt like doing during class, within reason. I stood up and walked past Gerard, peeking over his shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of whatever he was drawing.
It was this girl. A hot one too. She had blood dripping down from her eyes and lips and nose, little fangs sticking out from the red, her hair black and in pigtails, framing her pale pixie face and eyes.
"Shit," I said. "That's pretty fucking sweet."
Gerard twisted his head and looked at me, his eyes as scared as ever, while he covered his drawing with the white sleeve of his hand. He doesn't say anything. I expected him to tell me to fuck off or call me a faggot, but he just kind of stared at me. I shot him a quick smile and shuffled off through the rows of desks and out the door.
The hallway was long and empty, with crucifixes lining the walls with chipping paint. I walked for a while, looking for the right door. I whistled We Are 138 in my head while I strolled through, taking big dramatic strides and saluting each crucifix while I passed it. Jesus wasn't a bad looking guy. He had some muscle, he was a little scrawny, but he had the whole chiseled features shit going on. I rounded the corner and saw the entry to my sweet sanctuary.
I did a double take behind me, to the left, to the right. No teachers, no students, no nuns. All safe.
I went through the janitor-access-only stairwell that led to the roof and made sure to lock the door behind me. The room was dark, and wasn't lit. The janitors had stopped using the stairs once they installed an elevator, but they kept the stairs around in case of a fire. But the moist room was only used to make-out sessions, drugs, and my route to freedom.
I pulled the lighter out of my pocket and flicked it on, letting the flame help me from tripping everywhere in the darkness. Three stories of stairs upward and I found a door. It opened up to a bright light that blinded me for a second until my pupils swelled back into shape.
The roof was always pretty peaceful. Nobody ever came up here, and the school was the highest building for miles, so I felt pretty isolated. I pulled out a cig from my pocket and lit it, shielding the wind with my hand. I loosened my tie, and leaned back against the door, breathing in the poisonous fumes. It was soothing. The tobacco filled me like some kind of medicine, relaxing my nerves and running through my veins. I took another sip and then let it out, opening my mouth slowly and letting the smoke run across my lips and out into the frozen air. I popped my collar and untucked my shirt, letting it hang down from my hips. I rolled up my sleeves, too, and took another drag of the cancer stick.
The sky was a lot clearer than before. Winter was coming. The air was getting thinner and glassier, cutting deeper into my skin and rattling my bones with cold. I should've brought a jacket up here.
How long had I been here? A few minutes, right? Shit.
I checked my watch and realized that Radke would send a search party out for me if I didn't get back soon enough.
I finished up the cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground, rubbing it into the ground with my shoe and then retreating back into the door and into the dark hallway.
It took intense concentration not to trip on the way down. I remember the first few times I had come up to the roof, I had fallen one time, because I forgot to bring a lighter. I had just blindly wandered through, my hands in front of me, hoping I wouldn't accidentally grab a spiderweb or gross sludge from the wall. They hadn't used this staircase in years, so why pay for electricity for it?
I still smelled like smoke. I spun my hand around and took the bottle of cologne I had stolen from my Dad and applied it in generous amounts, trying to disguise the smell of nicotine with amplified douchebag testosterone.
I sniffed around and found it to be pleasing enough, and shrugged. Nothing left to do here. I spun around and opened the door again, stepping forward into the wet darkness.
There was always something dripping in here, some pipe that was breaking or a hole in the wall leaking in water. Always something echoing through the murky walls.
I was suprised I didn't catch on fire from the smelly chemicals on my skin that were probably flammable enough to be illegal in most states. The lighter guided me down the stairs and back to the first door. Now was the hard part. Make sure no one saw me stepping out into the hallway.
I slipped the lighter into my pocket and tucked my shirt back in, not bothering with the collar or tie. I let the door slide open a tiny crack, letting a small line of yellow light shine into the black around me. There didn't seem to anybody close, or at least I couldn't hear any footsteps. WIth a final swift movement, I stepped out of the staircase and into the bright hallway, spinning around to quietly and quickly close the door. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light and notice the boy slumping across from me.
The boy was still blurry, but eventually my eyes focused and I could make out the greasy black hair and pale face.
"Gerard?" The word came out a lot shakier than I had wanted it to.
He perked his head up and looked at me, the same scared look in his eyes. It faded after a few seconds, much to my surprise. His mouth went into a firm line and he stared me down. I wasn't used to being on the losing side of a stare down, and it didn't feel nice at all so I broke the silence and turned my eyes to my shoes.
"What are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are."
Gerard brought his hands up to display a tiny white cylinder between his fingers. He took a huff and let it out, right in the hallway. He was smoking right fucking next to the bleeding Jesus on the wall, not caring about the deep smell that was sliding down the floors and throughout the school. Give or take five minutes before a nun sniffs him out. This whole display screams 'new kid'.
"How did you even know I was smoking?" I suddenly realized. Maybe he'd seen me go upstairs and just drew conclusions?
But he simply nodded his head over to me, and made eye contact with what I first thought(hoped) was my crotch, but was actually my pocket, where a tiny bit of silver was peaking out. My lighter. Shit Iero, you need to have better cover next time.
I relaxed my shoulders a bit and let out a shaky laugh.
"You caught me," I admitted, putting my hands up and taking a step back, my shoulders making contact with the pale beige lockers.
Gerard smiled lightly and then took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground, stepping on it and grinding it into the newly mopped floor. What a spectacle.
He took another one from out of his pocket and slid it between his lips, then directed his eyes back to me. There was something different. Gerard was in his element. He was at peace with the world, and was confident and wasn't scared of anyone giving him the slightest glance of attention. This was a different Gerard than the shaking boy in Radke's class.
He looked over at me with his eyebrows higher than usual and tilted his head forward. Oh. I jumped forward a little too fast and brought the silver flame to the stick in between his pink lips. I inched in closer than I needed to, while I watched his cheeks cave in while he breathed the new smoke into his lungs. He concentrated on the burning edges of red in front of his mouth, his eyes narrowing. I studied his skin, how pale and milky it looked up close. The way his hair balanced over his eyes perfectly in big graceful curves across his forehead. I noticed too late that he had moved his eyes up to meet mine and caught me staring at him. I sprung backwards and almost dropped the lighter. I opened my mouth to apologize only to find someone else's words fill my ears.
"HEY!" A familiar shrill voice called out and woke me up from my Gerard-stun. Gerard's eyes got wide again, and the confidence leaked out from his mouth when he let out a soft noise of surprise. Stupid new kid. Thinks he can smoke in the halls. I grabbed him and pulled him by his collar, dragging him across the hall and back into the little janitor's stairwell. The door slammed shut and suddenly we were alone in the dark, our noses touching for a split second before he backed away and breathed out an 'oof' when his back hit the cold wall. I put my ear to the door and heard Sister Eliza shuffling past and sniffing around for high school delinquents. Tracking the scent of cigarettes was her speciality.
"Where-" Gerard squeaked before I reached forward to cover what I hoped was his mouth with my hands. His voice muffled. "-are we?"
"Shut the fuck up," I whispered, taking my hands off his face slowly and resting two fingers on his lips. He nodded and I leaned back and let out the breath I'd been holding in for the past two minutes. Once my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I noticed Gerard was eating at his nails anxiously, with the scared look plastered back on his face. I kind of missed it. That cool content aura that surrounded him when he was blowing on the cancerous device; now he was as insecure and shaky as he had been in class, and yet my interest in him remained unbroken.
Finally the Sister's footsteps faded away and the coast was clear. I propped the door open with my foot and inspected the surroundings. Gerard crept closer and I could feel his words on my shoulder. "Is it safe?"
I answered with a tug on his sleeve, while I lunged out of the room and closed the door, double taking to make sure no one was around. Gerard kind of swayed back in forth behind me, probably tired of all the tugging I had been doing on his shirt.
"You should go back to class," I droned, tucking my shirt back in and rolling up my sleeves, in case the sister returned for a double check. "They'll be suspicous if we come back in together."
Gerard looked confused.
"We're the fags, remember?" I said flatly. His eyes seemed to sadden a little and so did something in my ribs. I shot him a quick smile and smoothed my hair down. "I'll be seeing you, Gerard."
I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around in the direction of the classroom, pushing him forward. I took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "Don't smoke in the halls next time, yeah?" My chin rested on his shoulder and I lingered, feeling something shake inside of my chest before shoving him away and making my way to the courtyard.
It's hard to fall asleep with the constant sound of a failing marriage pounding into your brain. I had grown up with the muffled shouting coming through the thin walls; one would think I would have learned how to tune it out. But nope. Still there, leaking into my head and tainting every thought of happily ever after with the cursing from my Dad and the crying from my Mom. The Jack Daniels splattered on the wall from where he threw it, the stain stubbornly remaining in the carpet.
I decided that lying here listening to them was only going to make things worse. I stood up and slid my Misfits hoodie over my head, determined to escape. It's not like they would notice or care that their lost cause of a son had left without a word.
Dad was obviously drunk. His words were slurred and his arguments didn't have any point or reason, they just ran in accusing circles and ended in him passing out from the booze and Mom sleeping on the couch. I wasn't needed here. They had their routine, I had mine.
It was a lot colder outside then it had been in my bedroom. I shook myself deeper into the dark fabric to try and absorb the heat and amplify the warm waves radiating from my body. It was black and quiet outside. Suburbia. Just countless numbers of beige stucco houses lining an empty barely-lit street. I marched down the street, breathing out clouds and staring at the moisture collecting on the edges of the sidewalk. I was alone and at peace with my thoughts and let them all come with ferocity.
The first to come was Gerard. His light lips and enormous eyes. The same image of him burned in my brain like a photograph. The cigarette in his mouth and the smoke escaping from the corners. I took the cigarette off his tongue and replaced it with mine, lips moving against his while I brought myself closer to his body, and pressed against him. The noises that escaped him while I grabbed at his flesh and licked at his neck. The sweat that beaded down his jaw and the crease in his brow as he shut his eyes and groaned.
I counted the steps I took between each crack in the cement, seeing how determined my feet were to get the fuck away from wherever I was. How determined they were go get somewhere. Not like I was going anywhere to begin with. I was going nowhere.
I was nowhere. Some unrecognizable street corner with badly lit alleys leading off to God knows where. Maybe I should leave.
Somewhere behind me a voice drifted against the cold wind and into my head. It was distant and unclear, yet I could make out two things. One, it was a dude. Two, it was singing. I checked to make sure no one was around and turned to follow the voice. I was a crazy person. This is what crazy people do. They follow voices.
It got louder as I approached a small house on the end of the street, identicle to all the others except for one of the rooms upstairs. The window had a giant bat on it, a shitty painting that was chipping off from the sun and rain, but a bat nonetheless. The voice spiralled out across the front lawn from the window and I itched to find its owner.
"ILLL PUT A KNIFE RIGHT IN YOO im WARNING YO."
I suddenly realized that I had walked onto their lawn and was practically at their doorstep. Now I was a stalker. This is what stalkers do. And as I turned around to flee, a flood light turned on and burned my eyes into liquid, while I frantically tried to stumble off the yard and back into the darkness, but it's hard to plan an escape route when you can't fucking see.
The voice suddenly stopped. Oh shit. I turned around to what I thought was the direction of the road and ran. Bad idea.
Two steps in, I made contact with something and slammed onto the ground, clutching my knee and hissing unholy words under my breath.
"Dude, are you okay?"
I noticed two things at this point. The first was the very-solid mailbox in front of me, the object I had slammed into. The second I noticed was Gerard, standing over me with his hands behind his back while he bounced on his heels.
"Uh-" was all I could choke out, while I forced the pain out of my body and stood up, the pounding in my knee screaming at me with defiance. "I'm fine."
Gerard looked like he was going to reach a hand out to help me stand for a second, but only scratched at his head and ruffled his hair. We both stood there for a while, me cursing at my leg and him anxiously watching me, before he spoke again.
"This is my house."
"Yeah."
"You're here at my house."
I sighed and closed my eyes. "...yep." There was nothing else to say.
Gerard didn't do anything but stand there.
"Sorry, I was just going for a walk and I heard someone singing so I kind of... came here." It sounded at least ten times worse out loud. Please Gerard don't hate me.
"Oh," he said. "Well... sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I- I don't know. I couldn't think of anything else to say."
Gerard pursed his lips and looked everywhere except my face.
"How about 'stop stalking me'?" I joked, trying to ease the tension.
"You stalk me?" he said ,his eyes widening and finally landing on me. Fuck.
"No no no no no, just... I was kidding," I mustered up the biggest smile I could fake and kicked at the dirt when Gerard didn't return it. Back to the silence.
"Well, I'll just... be on my way then," I said, spinning around and swearing at the pain.
His voice was small. "Wait."
I made sure to turn around slowly this time, cutting my knee some slack.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for today. For the- smoking. Thing." God each word he said just made this even more painful. He sounded like the words were being pulled out of his throat one by one. He tried miming the action of smoking with his long fingers, but gave up halfway and tucked his hands back into his pockets. "You saved my ass."
"No problem," I sighed. "See you tomorrow."
Gerard didn't respond, but I felt his eyes on the back of my neck. I made my way off his lawn and tried not to make it obvious how fast I wanted to get the fuck away. I made it a few feet and then gave in, peeking behind my shoulder to see Gerard had gone inside.
My feet sprung into action, while I sprinted back down the street, not caring about the heat gathering up in the newly bruised skin of my leg. Just keep running...
