harborshore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
harborshore) wrote2009-12-06 11:19 am
harborshore) wrote2009-12-06 11:19 am
Ficlet: Make It Deep (So It Always Shows)
So it's ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wasoncedelight's birthday. Darling, darling, I've had so much fun with you in the past nine months or so--all the commentfics, the babbling, the writing talk, the everything. I love you. Today should be a great day, because you more than deserve it.
I wrote you a tiny thing, a ficlet I've owed you for a while. It's Frank gen, before my big bang happens, and I hope you like it, dearest. ♥, so much, okay?
Title: Make It Deep (So It Always Shows)
Pairing: Frank gen
Warnings: None! (that's a first for this verse)
Word Count: 405
Summary: AU. Tattoos are forbidden, music is forbidden, anything fun is forbidden, is it really any wonder that Frank gets himself expelled and takes off for New York City?
Frank was sixteen when he got kicked out of school. Okay, so on second thought, a visible tattoo was possibly the shittiest idea he could have come up with, given that the teachers had told him that if he pulled anything else, anything at all, they’d have to expel him. They were mostly trying to help (Frank was lucky that way, his school was somehow full of teachers who obeyed the letter of the law but taught rebellion quietly whenever they could) because there was only so much they could look the other way for. Mrs Molina cried when she saw him after he’d taken the wrappings off and the spider was visible—-Frank felt a little bad, then, so he gave her a hug and told her he'd be okay.
"Idiot," she said, and then told him to call her if he ever needed anything. "Or come by," she said, "We have a basement that isn't on the official plans of the house."
"Badass," he said, and, because she really was an awesome teacher, he told her he was going to the city. "I want to, you now, help."
She looked at him like—-it hurt a little, the way she looked at him, but she just nodded and fiddled with her old-lady glasses and told him to stay safe.
--
A year later, after sleeping on people’s couches and in stairways and following every underground band he could find, surviving pneumonia twice, and learning to fight from the asshole manning the back-alley bar in Middle Village, he met Bert and Quinn. It took them ten minutes of yelling about who really found the blanket on the stairwell first, Bert darting in and licking Frank and laughing, and Frank trying to figure out who these crazy motherfuckers were, before Quinn said something about needing to go because they were meeting Schechter in Queens, fuck the blanket, and Frank stilled.
"Brian Schechter?" he asked, instinctively lowering his voice. Brian Schechter was a legend in the underground.
Bert nodded, apparently unconcerned, whereas Quinn looked a little scared that he'd said something he shouldn't. Frank swallowed.
"Can I come?" he asked.
--
Two years after that, he saw Gerard Way scream his way through something that was half song, half protest speech, and Frank looked over at Brian, who nodded once, and then at Bert, who was grinning wildly, and knew it had all been worth it, sleeping in stairwells and in cars, getting in fights (and getting beaten up more often than not), even the fucking pneumonia, because they were going to win.
wasoncedelight's birthday. Darling, darling, I've had so much fun with you in the past nine months or so--all the commentfics, the babbling, the writing talk, the everything. I love you. Today should be a great day, because you more than deserve it.I wrote you a tiny thing, a ficlet I've owed you for a while. It's Frank gen, before my big bang happens, and I hope you like it, dearest. ♥, so much, okay?
Title: Make It Deep (So It Always Shows)
Pairing: Frank gen
Warnings: None! (that's a first for this verse)
Word Count: 405
Summary: AU. Tattoos are forbidden, music is forbidden, anything fun is forbidden, is it really any wonder that Frank gets himself expelled and takes off for New York City?
Frank was sixteen when he got kicked out of school. Okay, so on second thought, a visible tattoo was possibly the shittiest idea he could have come up with, given that the teachers had told him that if he pulled anything else, anything at all, they’d have to expel him. They were mostly trying to help (Frank was lucky that way, his school was somehow full of teachers who obeyed the letter of the law but taught rebellion quietly whenever they could) because there was only so much they could look the other way for. Mrs Molina cried when she saw him after he’d taken the wrappings off and the spider was visible—-Frank felt a little bad, then, so he gave her a hug and told her he'd be okay.
"Idiot," she said, and then told him to call her if he ever needed anything. "Or come by," she said, "We have a basement that isn't on the official plans of the house."
"Badass," he said, and, because she really was an awesome teacher, he told her he was going to the city. "I want to, you now, help."
She looked at him like—-it hurt a little, the way she looked at him, but she just nodded and fiddled with her old-lady glasses and told him to stay safe.
--
A year later, after sleeping on people’s couches and in stairways and following every underground band he could find, surviving pneumonia twice, and learning to fight from the asshole manning the back-alley bar in Middle Village, he met Bert and Quinn. It took them ten minutes of yelling about who really found the blanket on the stairwell first, Bert darting in and licking Frank and laughing, and Frank trying to figure out who these crazy motherfuckers were, before Quinn said something about needing to go because they were meeting Schechter in Queens, fuck the blanket, and Frank stilled.
"Brian Schechter?" he asked, instinctively lowering his voice. Brian Schechter was a legend in the underground.
Bert nodded, apparently unconcerned, whereas Quinn looked a little scared that he'd said something he shouldn't. Frank swallowed.
"Can I come?" he asked.
--
Two years after that, he saw Gerard Way scream his way through something that was half song, half protest speech, and Frank looked over at Brian, who nodded once, and then at Bert, who was grinning wildly, and knew it had all been worth it, sleeping in stairwells and in cars, getting in fights (and getting beaten up more often than not), even the fucking pneumonia, because they were going to win.