I'm new here, but I'm assuming I need to list off a few things?

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction, meaning that it never happened. I have no contact with the members of My Chemical Romance, and I own nothing aside from the plot.
Rating: NC-17 for language, mature themes and explicit sex.
Pairing: Frerard (Frank Iero / Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance).
Author's note: My first time posting here, be easy. Also, my fictions are posted on many other sites, so please don't review my work as plagiarism if you've seen it elsewhere.


"It's bullshit if you ask me," Gerard announced, disrupting the entire university classroom. "I mean, really...a haunted human that brings nothing but bad luck, insanity, then eventually death? Just because of some wacked thing on his right hand?" Gerard sounded really unconvinced.

"Not just some wacked thing, Mr. Way," his teacher spoke up, "it's a spiralling hole that never stops," he explained.

"Bull–shit."

"You can believe what you like, Mr. Way."

"Why are you even teaching this? This is Art History, not historical myths."

"Because, the person who holds the curse is said to have the utmost talent in art."

"Yeah, and it's also said that if you wear your shirt inside out and backwards or some shit that the fairies will get you. I don't see any fairies crawling up my turf yet...considering the many number of times I've put my clothes on wrong after a long night of partying."

"That's different," the teacher argued, "it has nothing to do with what we're talking about."

Gerard let out an exasperated laugh. "It has everything to do with what we're talking about."

"I'd like to see your interpretation of that."

"Well, I'd like to get laid tonight, but I don't see that happening."

"The person deemed to hold the curse is also said to hold the personality and antics to follow of a free-selling prostitute...if you catch my drift." The professor had been ignored.

Shrill laughs echoed throughout the overpopulated room. "Hey, Gerard," a girl with plump lips and sandy blonde hair called out. Gerard, who was slumping down in his chair and tapping a pencil against the wooden desk attached, looked over towards the owner of the voice. "Call me," she said, holding up the suitable signal with her thumb and pinky towards her ear. Gerard gave a cheeky smirk and gave a brief 'seductive' nod as he ran his tongue across his top teeth beneath his upper lip.

An uproar of whistles and laughter spewed throughout the classroom. Gerard received high-fives from his friends around him.

"Silence!"

The fun and games had been brought to an abrupt end as the Professor previewed his displeasure for the topic being discussed.

The bell rang, saving each and every one of them from a very long and hassling lecture about speaking out of place and about obscured and inappropriate topics. Not that it would have mattered, though. The entire classroom was filled with first year university students, fresh out of high school.

"Can you believe that man?" Gerard asked, catching up with Ray Toro in the hallway. "Seriously, who does he think he is? Teaching us that garbage."

"–I think I'm your Professor."

Gerard, completely unaffected by the fact that he had been overheard by the exact person he had been ranting about, merely turned around and stopped in his tracks.

"Then stop teaching us ghost stories...I took that class to learn about art."

"Sounds like you're scared, Mr. Way."

"Bastard," Gerard huffed before rolling his eyes and turning away.

"You've just earned yourself a Saturday detention, Mr. Way!"

Gerard, instead of stopping, merely stuck his hand up and flipped off the Professor without even another glance over his shoulder. He couldn't care less about something as silly as a Saturday detention...he was in university, after all. He honestly just couldn't get over the fact that they still had such things. But, since he was already living on residence (rooming on his own), spending a Saturday afternoon in a classroom would be nothing out of the ordinary for him.

"You know, Way," Ray had started off, placing his hand on Gerard's shoulder, "one day, you're going to piss off the wrong man and get your scrawny ass kicked out of this school."

Gerard shrugged, keeping up his act of uncaring tendencies. "They won't kick me out," he said, "because if they were going to, they would have by now," he reasoned.

"He has a point," Bob noted. "I mean, look at all the shit he's after putting the teachers through. Everything from disrupting and disrespecting to questioning the teaching habits and materials of the class."

"How did you even get into this school?" Ray asked.

"Because, they only looked at my grade progress report from high school, they didn't look at all the discipline notes I had collected up at the main office."

At that, the three boys started to laugh.

Later that night, after Gerard had showered, did his hair, worked on some paintings and actually completed his English report on the play 'Macbeth', the dorm adviser sent a few knocks to the door. Gerard, assuming that it was just one of his friends (or even the chick from class that day) didn't bother to find a top, so he answered the door in his boxers.

The adviser laughed at bit at Gerard's rarely uncommon appearance, then cut straight to the point. "You're the only one in this dorm wing that has an extra bed and no roommate," he stated.

"Yeah...and?" Gerard asked, crossing his arms over his chest so he wouldn't feel as exposed.

"We just had a transfer, male, and he's paying for residence..."

"...so you want me to share my room?"

"We're not asking you," the slightly shorter man stated. "You're living on residence, so this isn't your place...we're just giving you a heads up. He'll be bringing his stuff by in the morning."

"Don't I have anything to say in the matter?" Gerard asked as the adviser started to walk away.

"Nope," he replied, "I'm afraid you don't."

Gerard rolled his eyes and shut the door without another word.