Dead Like Me

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"GODDAMMIT GERARD!" I screamed in shock as he jumped at me, brandishing a short switch-blade. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He just stood blankly staring at me as if I were the crazy one. Me.

He was the one who fucking jumped me in the middle of the night from behind a dumpster with a fucking knife! I almost pissed my pants for God's sake.

Okay, so I guess it was partly my fault... I mean, I had been walking home, alone, in the dead of night in the middle of Newark. Not necessarily the best idea I'd ever had, to say the least. You didn't really want to be caught walking alone at any time in our little section of New Jersey, but night time was by far the worst.

I figured I was tough enough. I wasn't scared. I could handle myself. Except for the fact that, up until then I had spent the time I was walking going over several scenarios in my head, just to figure out what I would do if I was attacked. A lot of good they did when Gerard burst out at me.

I wanted to fucking strangle him. Him and that stupid, self-assured, half-cocked smirk that he always wore.

"Gerad, that wasn't funny." I said, moving away from him as he tried to put his arm around my shoulder. "You shouldn't do that to people. It's not nice at all."

He laughed and lit up a cigarette, taking a puff and then exhaling before responding.

"Well, darlin', you shouldn't a been walking around alone at night. That'll teach ya."

He took another drag.

"I coulda been a rapist, or a serial killer. I could have kidnapped you and cut off all of your extremeties and put them in my fridge until I was hungry."

He took another drag.

"And you shouldn't swear. It's not becoming."

Fucking bastard. I hope you get lung cancer. That reminded me that I was dying for a cigarette.

I lit up a smoke of my own. Yeah, I smoked. If you asked me then, I would have told you that I did it because I wanted to. But the wanting part came later. After I'd been smoking for at least a few years it was actually because I wanted to. But if I'm going to be completely honest about it, I started because I wanted Gerard to think I was cool. God, I wanted him to think I was cool.

"Those'll kill you, you know." He motioned one hand towards the cigarette in mine. I shrugged back at him, trying to be nonchalant, trying not to think about all of the costic substances I was inhaling.

"Oh, come on. Do I really have to apologize? It was just a joke!"

I gave him the coldest look I could muster, and started off in the direction I had been going, before I was so rudely interrupted.

I could hear his footsteps following me. He didn't say anything for a whiile, and I wasn't about to give him the benefit of speaking first, so I ignored him until he caught up to me.

"Fine, you win, you big baby. I'm sorry I jumped out at you with a knife. There. Better?"

I wasn't going to give in that easily.

"Gerard, I don't think you really appreciate how angry I am right now. Until you apologize properly, I am not saying another word to you," I huffed, storming away. That'll teach him.

.
I stopped walking so quickly when my lungs started to burn. Damn, cool cigarettes. He ran after me, and finally caught up to me again just as I was about to enter the gate of my front yard.

"Wait!" he wheezed. Ha.

I slowly turned around, a less-than-impressed and very expectant look on my face.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

He started to protest, but changed his mind mid-sentence. "Okay. Maybe I deserved that. But I said I was sorry!"

I turned back towards the house.

"Oh, Frankie, come on! What else do you want me to say?!"

I hated that name. It sounded so juvenile. I was eighteen now, I was a man. Frankie was too liitle-kiddish for me.

At least I used to think so.

It started in school.

After that day he asked me for a light, it was as if some unspoken agreement had been made between us. He let me approach him, and he would actually nod at me in the hallway. I was baffled as to why he had suddenly decided that I was cool enough to talk to. But I didn't complain.

When he asked me what my name was, I told him Frank. I thought it sounded more grown up. Well, he just laughed, in that typical Gerard way. The way that made me feel like he knew so much more about the world than I did. He smiled at me and said, "I like Frankie better."

That was it. From then on, with him, I was always Frankie.

He was the only one who I ever let call me by that name.

Maybe I liked the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. Maybe it was the way his voice rose at the end of it that always made it sound like he was asking a question. But God, I couldn't tortue the boy any more.

"Okay, Gerard, I forgive you-- on one condition."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Conditions and I were a bad combination, and he knew it.

"What?"

"You have to say that I'm the boss of you."

He started laughing. "You're joking, right?"

The look on my face gave him all the answer he needed. Dead serious.

"Fine, you fucking prick. You are the boss of me."

"Who's that?"

"You are!"

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and mock lifted him of the ground by it. "Say my name, Bitch!"

He rolled his eyes and pulled his collar away from my grasp.

"Frank Iero is the boss of me."

"Damn straight. And don't you forget it!"

I ran inside to avoid the barrage of rocks that suddenly started flying my way.