Who Am I .1.

One

He awoke to the obnoxious; buzzing that came from his alarm clock. Bringing him out of his dream, a great one at that, and into reality. And all he wanted to do was to sink back into his bed, curl up underneath the blankets, and drift back off into unconsciousness.

That would be impossible as this rate though. He could hear the shuffling of his mother’s heels above the basement as she rushed about. He could imagine her kissing the top of Mikey’s head as he ate his breakfast, a feat the young sophomore didn’t mind.

Gerard wished he could say the same.

He and his mother use to be close. To the point where he could tell her anything. This was especially accounted for during his phase where his only friend was Mikey. He would tell her about how he was treated at school, how they teased him. She was the first he told about himself being bisexual, and never once did she even look at him in disgust. She would be there, her heart open, whenever she was needed.

Now, he couldn’t even say, Thank You, without being looked upon with disappointment.

You see, ever since Gerard started altering himself, he pushed his mother farther and farther away. She noticed this, and countless times she tried to patch things up, but never once did he let her. No, “Get Away,” he would say as she hugged him goodbye while he set off for school. She would keep her face straight as he looked at her with annoyance, but inside her heart cried.

And now, he’s alone and guilty as he hears laughing from above. The booming tone of his fathers, the lovely giggle of his mother, and the quiet snorting of his brother. How he wishes he could set things straight. He just doesn’t have the guts too, though.

Inside, all he wants to do is hug his mother tight, inhaling the scent of her perfume. He wants to be patted on the back by his father, the look of pride on his face. And he wants to laugh with his brother, enjoy the comic books they once shared, laugh about nothing.

He knows he can’t though. If he did do this, it would only tear down a part of the false identity he has built up. And if he tore down one part, there would surely be more to come. It would chip away slowly, eroding, like a mountain, except the mountain was his alias. It would eat away, munching, gnawing.

Then, what would be revealed would be Gerard. The real Gerard.. And he knew that would lead to nothing good. Only bad.  Pain. Regret. Loss. Non Acceptance. And that’s what he feared the most, not being accepted. Ironically, though, it was his one goal in life, to be different. Or at least have the guts to be different.

He swung his arm back, hitting the alarm as the beeping stopped. He thought, for a moment, about faking illness, just so he wouldn’t have to go to school. He knew his mother wouldn’t fall for it though. He sighed, and removed himself from the bed. Making his way to the bathroom, he grabbed his toothbrush, applying paste onto the bristles, and brushing his teeth.

He examined himself, white foam from the paste dripping from his chin. He looked at himself now, compared to back then. His hair was slightly curled just below his ears, his bangs messy and splayed everywhere. His eyes followed him, and he thought about reaching for the eyeliner hidden under his sink, but soon enough that thought was dismissed, quickly, without a second thought. He rinsed out his mouth, quickly running a brush through his mane, before exiting back into his room.

His walls were bare, the dull gray staring back at him. He use to have posters covering almost every inch, now, nothing. His art utensils were hidden beneath his bed. He was ashamed of this talent. So he kept it to himself. Only recently has he begun to explore his voice. He hates himself for having a voice, because “only faggots sing”.

He slipped off his clothes, and immediately he felt self-conscious. Never had he been happy about his appearance. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t skinny either. He’d always felt uncomfortable being naked, even if it was just his boxers, which was probably the reason he was still a virgin. Fortunately, for Gerard, no girl, or guy, had shown any interest.

He pulled on a pair of straight leg blue jeans and a Hollister shirt. It felt stupid and raw against his skin, he would much rather have changed into something else. Anything else, even a jacket over the shirt would do. But, no, that would only raise rumors. He surely couldn’t afford rumors at this point. Just when he was starting to fit in.

He sighed to himself and left his room, the warmth of the house refreshing him as he entered the living room. He walked into the kitchen, and no one noticed him. Just like he wasn’t there. It didn’t sting him like it used to though. It was routine. Habit. He grabbed a drink from the refrigerator and quickly made his way back to the basement, almost tripping down the stairs. The tension rose off his shoulders as he leant against the closed door, sipping the coke.

He sighed loud and hard.

*

Just standing outside the school doors made him nervous. People flooded around him, quickly entering but not exiting. He heard talk, gossiping mostly. Luckily, not about him. That made him content as he entered.

Inside was worse. Groups flocked around him. Girls clinging to each other as they pushed their way through the crowds, guys could be seen screeching as they charged their way through, knocking down anything that came in their path.

Gerard squeezed through any spaces that he could find to make his way to his locker. He knocked a small girl down, but quickly helped her up afterwards. Receiving a Thank You and a smile. He passed it off as nothing.

It wasn’t that Gerard didn’t like people in general. He just didn’t like groups of people everywhere. Filling in the entire space around him. Closing in on him everywhere he moved. He wasn’t claustrophobic… well maybe a little.

He found his way into the bathroom, catching his breath as his hands held onto the cold metal of the sink. He turned the faucet on, cupping his hands under the running water and splashing it onto his face.. The water was cool and refreshing as it dripped down his pointed nose. It reminded him of the summer rain. He wiped his face quickly and as he was about to leave he heard crying.

Gerard wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but he was one to lend a helping hand. He peered into the bathroom stall, and huddled up in the corner was a boy. Merely a boy, he couldn’t be older than 14, 15 at the most. Freshman. A year younger than Mikey.

From what he could see through the small gap, the boy had black hair, and gauges. Black jeans and a dark grey jacket. Gerard was hesitantly reminded of himself, back in freshman year. Before he was manipulated. Before everything went right. Before everything went wrong.

He picked the lock, and easy thing due to the poor funding of the school. He kneeled in front of the small boy. His back was heaving but he no longer cried, only whimpers escaped from his throat.

For a second, Gerard couldn’t move. A sense of claustrophobia washed over him. He pushed it as far back into his head as he could. The young boys whimpers seemed to die down.

“Hey, you”

The boy’s head shot up, and it connected with the back of the wall. He let out a string of obscenities as he clutched at his head. Gerard stumbled backwards, knocked back by the force as the boy stood up. He immediately began collecting his belongings. Muttering under his breath and wiping at his eyes.

“Hey, stop. Look, what’s wrong?”

Gerard could see the boy now, and he was right. Freshman. He had never seen him before, so he had to have been new. His hair was jet black, like Gerard’s, except it was parted to the side and it curled underneath his right eye. He had thick lines of eyeliner around his eyes, which was now smearing due to his tears. His eyes were similar to Gerard’s, but were closer to green than hazel.

Gerard knew, instantly, why he was crying. He was in this exact same place, at this exact same time, on his first day of freshman year.. Gerard had been beaten senseless. To the point to where it ached to breathe. He dressed just like this boy did. He wore eyeliner, had his hair parted to the side, it reached down to his shoulders. He was different; therefore, he was punished for it.
And as Gerard looked closer, he could see the pink and purple bruises forming on the boy’s face. It could only be worse underneath his clothes though. The boy held his stomach as he limped away. All Gerard could do was watch.. Listen as the sniffles faded away.

The bell rang and he didn’t care if he was late. He exited the bathroom swiftly and quietly. He walked through the now empty halls.

He was relieved.

*

“Hey man, where were you?”

Jack was the obnoxious, popular, dickhead, pervert, homophobic, stupid, girl-getting quarter back that happened to be Gerard’s ‘best friend’.

“Nowhere dude.”

Gerard involuntarily switched into his fake self, and took a seat beside Jack. Settling in as his teacher, Mr. Howard, began talking. Gerard drowned out most of it. Seeming as nothing he stated was very important. He shut his eyes, and tried to fall asleep, failing as the lights shut off and yelling was heard from the projector.

He opened them, and was reminded of a too familiar past. Showing on the screen was a kid, lying upon the ground, his hands covering his head but not protecting anything as he received blow after vicious blow. Kicks seemed to be the favorite of the people beating him, especially to the victims face. Each kick or hit resulted in a scream and laughing. Soon enough he realized the laughing was coming from Jack and his friends.

“Remember that faggot we beat today?” He snickered.

Gerard clenched his fists and his jaw set as ‘the boy’ slipped into his head. That was the one thing he could not fake. He couldn’t imagine hurting anyone, especially a helpless kid. The clip seemed to drag on and on, while bystanders joined in on the beating.. Finally, it stopped and the lights were flipped back on.

“What has happened to us?”

Mr. Howard emerged from his desk. Walking in front of the class. Now, Gerard was interested.

“What has happened to us? That young man died, you know?”

He pointed back to the screen where the picture of the boy was shown, dead on the ground.

“When did we lose the respect for another humans life?”

Mr. Howard slapped both hands on Jack’s desk, stopping his laughing. He gulped. Slipping deeper down into his desk. His eyes glazed over and for a second Gerard swore he was about to cry, but if he was he held it back well.

“Do our lives mean nothing more than a figment of our wildest imagination? When did we cross the line? Where? ... Why?”

Jack was dazed as Mr. Howard left his desk. Soon after, the bell rang. Everyone left their seats, Jack following Gerard. They walked until they were clear of the classroom.

“What a freak? Right, Way?”

Gerard nodded, but it was a lie. Just like everything else. Like this façade he has put up. Like everything in his life.

Jack left him for the school slut across the hall, probably going to ask for a quick blowjob before next period. Gerard felt nauseous at the thought.

Somewhere deep inside, Gerard knew what Mr. Howard said was true. And it did not make him a freak at all. No. He was absolutely correct. What use to be fights over who got a certain crayon turned the tables to getting murdered for no complete reason at all. Why did it happen? Do we just not care at all anymore? When did being different become a reason to get punished for? Why did we get punished at all?

Gerard didn’t know the answer to that question.

But, during the whole time he was thinking of the boy in the bathroom stall.

What did he do to deserve that? To be left, broken upon the floor. Barely being able to move, only having the strength to cry and hope no one hears him. Traumatized and frightened when someone comes to help. No one deserved that, so, what did he do?

The answer to that, was nothing.