Chapter One- 'The world in your eyes"

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Hello! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my new fanfic, I intend it to be pretty long and each chapter will take time to write on top of college, but please follow me for updates if you like it!! It really helps me out. So do votes and I LOVE comments. Oh, this story is set in California in an fictional town, I live in Britain so I don't know how things like money and the police and things work out there in the USA so I apologise if I get things wrong :) Without any further ado....Let me begin...

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Gerard Way had always been a lone wolf. Raised in the town of Mavet, out in the wasteland of the Californian Desert, he always had the odds stacked against him, but the ability to see the dead? That was the tipping point that threw his destiny into complete isolation. His mother had died as he came into the world. His birth had been messy and with no proper hospital for 100 miles, there had been little the inexperienced Doctor could do to help. It was a miracle Gerard had made it alive in the first place. His father, Gerard suspected, also had clairvoyant abilities. But slowly, being a single parent and coping with the constant fear of seeing the dead walking, he broke down, talking to the ghosts and appearing completely insane to everyone but the seven year old Gerard. He had been taken to a mental hospital in the city, five or six hours away, leaving Gerard all alone. In such a small town there were no foster parents available, so the Sheriff, Patrick, had taken care of him.

He had been eight and three quarters when he saw his first ghost. A boy, just like him, playing at the park, completely normal besides the blood trickling from the bullet hole in his forehead. Gerard had been terrified running to Patrick and screaming about the bleeding boy. Concerned, the Sheriff had investigated, only to find that Gerard ran to the climbing frame and pointed frantically at thin air. "There's nobody there Gerard" he had told him, full of worry, thinking about the small boys father and his mental illness.  Gerard had seen this in Patrick's eyes and despite his terror and confusion, had jokingly passed it off as a prank. Patrick didn't believe him. Since then, his makeshift parent had come to understand that Gerard suffered the same schizophrenia as his father and was tempted to send him to get proper treatment in the city. But when the ten year old Gerard had told him that the murderer in the case he was working on lived downtown- the dead had told him that anyway, he had been extremely sceptical but a gut feeling had told him to explore the possibility anyway, something that had proved to be the best decision to have made, catching and appending the offender that evening. From then on, Gerard's eerie ability only increased and as much as the Sheriff was a realist, he began to believe Gerard really could see the dead.  He decided this supernatural insight was too valuable to send him off to a hospital, and so a strange alliance and understanding formed between them.

In the present day, at age seventeen, Gerard was suffering the effects of his gift. Patrick saw it every day, the haunted look, the shadowed eyes, the quick glances over his shoulder and flinches at the slightest noise. The Sheriff was an inexperienced parent, he had no idea what to do to help the boy, instead spending all day and most nights at the office, pondering cases and worried sick over Gerard. He had tried talking to him, taking him out for  a treat and had once even suggested medication, a touchy topic, but nothing had seemed to help. Gerard silently suffered horrors of death on a daily basis, of course he didn't relate to people easily, no wonder he had no friends.

And so he sat in his tomb of a basement bedroom day after day, sweating under the thick desert heat and yet insisting the window be opened only a crack, letting a singular beam of white shine into the otherwise dark room. Last night he had been victim to one of his most prevalent side affects. Nightmares. The dying would haunt him even into unconsciousness,filling his nights with horror. Patrick was witness to the aftermath.

"Here we are again, busted furniture and shattered glass everywhere" Patrick sighed as he stood in the doorway of Gerard's room, surveying the chaos that Gerard's night terrors had left behind. Patrick was in full uniform, beige shirt, badge, black trousers, a small shotgun holstered at his waist, ready to go to work. Almost everything Gerard owned was strewn across the floor, a glass had been thrown against the wall and one of the doors of his wardrobe hung limply from a single hinge. "Why didn't you come to me? I'm right there" he gestured "Right across the hall" Gerard groaned into his pillow. Patrick let out another heavy sigh and inched into the wreckage, plonking himself down on a worn desk chair. "Look." he examined his fingernails as he spoke "Gerard. I'm in the middle of a case at the office, I'm getting really close to a breakthrough. I'm so sorry I'm spending so much time at work...I promise as soon as this is though we'll do some stuff together"

"That's what you always say" came a muffled reply from beneath the duvet

Patrick was quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say. Gerard was right, he said that every time. "I'm really worried about you" he said quietly. Gerard fidgeted in his bed. Patrick was amazed at his endurance, it was roasting in the small room, he was sweating just sitting there, Gerard was under thick blankets. He looked around the room again, thinking about how long this was going to take to clear up, when his eyes settled on Gerard's guitar. It sat in the corner, the most expensive thing he owned, a beautiful black Fender Classic Series '72 Telecaster. He had been given it by his Grandma when he was eight before she passed away. Patrick had heard his play only a few times, he was not the best at the instrument by far but had potential, only of he practised. "Did you know one of your guitar strings have snapped?" he thought out loud. Gerard was sitting up immediately, staring at the first, high E string, where it had snapped and was curling unnaturally. Patrick glanced from the guitar to Gerard, whose face had fallen even further into despair, his bloodshot eyes pained by the sight of his beloved possession broken. "I know" Patrick smiled "That's what you can do today to get out of your bedroom, go to the old music shop in the mall, I heard someone was renovating it, buy a new set of strings"

"But...What if.." Gerard started

"You can't hide forever" Patrick said sternly but kindly "You're going to have to try and cope with this...'gift' you have. It's not going away"

"But..."

"No. I want to see new strings on that guitar tonight when I come home. I want to have seen you out of this stuffy room. Okay?"

Gerard collapsed back into his bed again with a groan, listening as Patrick walked back up the rickety stairs to the first floor and let himself out. The car growled in the driveway and then drove off into the town leaving only silence and stifling heat.  It was an hour and a half later when Gerard finally mustered to courage to haul himself out of bed, tiptoeing though the mess up into the kitchen. The difference in temperature between the kitchen and his room was amazing, the warm air hit Gerard in the face as he made his breakfast, a welcome break from the oven heat of his room.  Pondering over his cornflakes, he guessed he had to go out, Patrick was kind but he wasn't a pushover, and there was no messing with the Sheriff. Gerard hated public spaces, he hated how trapped he felt, how the swathes of people seemed to judge him, their eyes hitting like a black tidal wave. But most of all he hated them. The dead were everywhere, but they liked to concentrate in public areas, wandering aimlessly though groups of people who would never see them. Despite this, looking back at his guitar, Gerard decided he must go to the mall.

He dressed himself quickly, trying not to look at his body too much. It wasn't that he was fat, but he certainly wasn't skinny either and that was something that made him very self-conscious. On went the stained black skinny jeans, more grey then black now due to wear, a t-shirt and his favourite black jacket made shiny fake leather, torn and stained from all the use it got. He stuffed some money into his back pocket and followed it with his phone, a Sony with a cracked screen. The mall was only a 15 minute walk away, but by the time Gerard got outside it was nearly 12pm and the full fury of the desert sun was beating down on the small town. When he finally got into the car park his long black hair was plastered to his forehead and his body was drenched in sweat. His mother would always beg him to take his jacket off, complain that he'd get sun stoke or something, but Gerard liked the comfort it gave him, a security blanket between his skin and the world. He was exceptionally pleased that he had made it all the way to the mall without seeing a single spectre, but knew that that was soon to be changed.

Gerard sighed with relief as he walked though the automatic doors and the cold air from the air conditioning hit him. He stood for moment letting the breeze chill the sweat on his forehead and then moved on, into the main building. The mall was an average size, about a quarter of the shops had closed down the previous year when money got tight, leaving it a ghost of the commercial wonder it had once been. There were two floors, each boasting white floors with central benches and tasteful fake plant displays. The music shop was on the ground floor at the far end, tucked snugly into the corner. It had been there as long as the mall itself had, belonging to an old lady named Marie and her family. Everyone had thought the business was over when she had passed away and no successor came to take her place, that was, until this 'new guy' bought it. Walking along, Gerard began to feel nervous. He was very quiet and hated the thought of having to talk to a stranger. What if he made fun of him like the kids at school did? What would he do when he needed new guitar strings then? Taking a deep breath Gerard scolded himself mentally for letting his worries spiral out of control, he couldn't let that sort of thing get to him when he had the dead to cope with.

And then he felt it. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stool up and he suddenly felt very small and cold. They  were here. Ahead of him, sitting on a bench was a girl, blonde, pretty and wearing a floral patterned dress. She was just like all the other people in the mall, except she was dead. Gerard tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn to the long, dirt encrusted gashes that riddled her arms and legs. A large welt stood out on her cheek, shiny and red in the mid-day sunlight. Behind her, an old man casually walked though a crowd of youths, his face blue and deoxygenated. Gerard recognised him as a cancer patient, tearing his eyes away from then and focussing on his busted converse as he walked. He was determined not to let them overwhelm him, this time, he wouldn't have a panic attack, he wouldn't collapse and maybe, just maybe he could continue looking like a normal boy in a shopping mall instead of the weirdo curled on the floor crying.

Incredibly, his concentration tactic worked and Gerard made it to the music shop without incident. Today was a good day. He stared in wonder as he saw what had been done to it. The big glass window at the front of the shop had been cleaned of its grime and faded posters, now displaying a dozen gleaming guitars lined up against a white backdrop, each tilted slightly to make a circular pattern. The shops old plastic sign had been replaced by wooden plaque painted a fancy dark green and gold letters reading 'Iero Music' . Gerard stared a while, wondering how exactly that was pronounced before venturing in. A small bell jingled as he pushed open the door, echoing though the empty shop. Gerard paused, waiting to be set apon by the stranger, but there wasn't a sound. Shrugging and quickly glancing around to make sure there were none of them here, he began to explore. To the left there were shelves and shelves of music books, sheet music and novels about musicians and bands. To the right was a wide open area full of instruments, pianos sat rows by the front of the shop, followed by Chellos, trumpets, drums, violins and all sorts of others. On the back wall hung a wide variety of acoustic and electric guitars. In the centre of the shop, near the back was the counter, wooden and painted the same pine green as the sign, it was festooned in hundreds of colourful guitar plectrums all blue tacked directly to the wood, making a wonderful, if slightly strange, centre piece. The shop was a far cry from the one Gerard remembered it to be, gone was the musty smell and beige interior, Gerard knew he would be spending a lot of time here. He immediately made his way over to the guitars, examining the beautiful selection and wishing he had the money to buy another. He reached out to one of the acoustics and gently brushed his fingers over the strings, the mellow sound filling the silence.

"Can I help you?" a voice said behind him. Gerard jumped violently, flinching away, eyes wide, nearly knocking the guitar off the wall and causing it too let out a loud, painful TWANG. He turned to see a short boy, around his age, with medium length brown hair and sympathetic hazel eyes. He was wearing blue jeans, ripped at the knee, a black t-shirt and an open plaid shirt. "Whoa...I didn't mean to frighten you!" he exclaimed, smiling and moving to place a hand on the guitar, muting the strings and causing silence to descend over the shop again. Gerard said nothing, heart still beating rapidly, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. The other boy seemed taken aback by Gerard's strange behaviour, but still extended a hand. "I'm Frank Iero, this is my shop" he grinned. Gerard shook his hand slowly, registering and remembering how the boys last name was pronounced, I-ero"

"Hi" Gerard said shyly, heart still fluttering from his scare. Frank smiled, showing his teeth, moving his lip ring with his tongue slightly. His grin was genuine, it made his eyes seem to shine and dimples appear on his cheeks. It had been a long time since Gerard had seen anyone smile like that...like they owned the world, he felt himself being drawn to it. His own mouth turned up at the corner, this guy's happiness was infectious. "G-good job with the shop...it's amazing."he managed to splutter, his voice quiet from lack of use. "You're new in town?"

"Thanks!" Frank said enthusiastically, he seemed very willing to chat. Gerard wondered if he hadn't had many customers that day. "I moved down here from Jersey, looking to start a business, fancied this ol'shop would be just right for my first endeavour into adulthood" he smiled again"So....What were you looking for?"

Gerard realised he had been staring at Frank and quickly looked away. "Um...guitar strings?"

"Guitar Strings. Okay, right over here" Frank motioned to him and walked to a small shelf beside the guitars to the left, it held a selection of strings, cleaning spray and other guitar maintenance products. Gerard pondered over the boxes of different nylon and brass strings.

"So your a guitarist?" Frank asked friendlily

"Sort of. I just mess about, I'm not very good"

"I play a white Epiphone Les Paul, she's called Pansy" Frank seemed wistful at the mention of his guitar, Gerard could tell it was very special to him. Coming back to earth he added "I bet you're better then you think you are"

"I don't know about that"

"Nah, stop lying" he giggled, a sweet sound that made his face light up. "All it takes is a little practise." he went quiet, the smile still lingering on his face. Gerard felt him looking, really looking at him, his eyes seeming to find all of Gerard's secrets, a blush started to flood into his cheeks."You should bring your guitar down here, come jam with me, I could use some friends" Frank said.

"me?" Gerard questioned quietly. Would Frank really want to spend time with him, of all the people he could have picked, why would he choose someone who looked like death warmed up?

"Yes you, silly" Frank said playfully, he stood for a second in silence, his smile disappearing "You look like you need a friend too, I know how it is, I've been there."  Gerard was confused and surprised at this sudden change of tone, it was like he had suddenly caught a glimpse of Franks past, and if felt like being slapped in the face.

He had been completely unprepared for this and so looked down at his shoes and stuttered a "t-thanks" 

"Here, have my number" Frank was smiling again when Gerard looked up, like it had been there all along, a perfect façade. Frank recited his number slowly for Gerard to copy it into his phone. Gerard had difficulty getting a response out of the fractured touch screen, tiny grains of sand collecting in the cracks. "Text me, then I'll have yours" Frank said, arranging his hair by running his hand though it. Gerard watched the tattooed fingers, wondering what the letters on them meant, or if they meant anything at all.

"Okay" Gerard smiled

"Keep doing that"

"What?"

"Smiling, it looks good on you" Frank giggled again at the shock and confusion on Gerard's pale face.

Cheeks beginning to warm, Gerard finally chose a set of strings, trying to ignore how Franks comment made him feel "I'll take these"

"Sure, they are..." he reached for the box in Gerard's hands, tilting it so he could see the price printed on a small yellow sticker. His fingers brushed Gerard's for a moment before he pulled them away. "$5" He stood waiting while Gerard fumbled for his wallet, pulling it out of his back jeans pocket, it was makeshift, made of duct tape and was completely void of pictures of loved ones. Gerard handed the money to Frank, who pocketed it rather unprofessionally. Frank gave him a small paper bag containing his strings.

"I guess I better go" Gerard said, voice stronger now he felt comfortable with talking to Frank 

"Lovely meeting you" said Frank, genuine meaning behind his words. "Text me" he winked

Gerard felt his cheeks redden again and scolded himself internally. "You too. I will" he said as he left the shop, leaving Frank alone with the racks of guitars. Clutching the paper bag tightly, Gerard made his way back though the mall, thoughts filled with the new music shop but most of all, its owner. He was so absorbed by the thoughts that he didn't even notice the dead girl and old man as he passed them again. Gerard had never really thought about his sexuality, he had never had a date, or anyone to experiment with. Just yesterday, he had wondered if he would never find someone or that perhaps, he didn't want to find someone. But thinking back to his brief visit to the shop, thinking about Franks fingers, his eyes, his mouth... there was an unmistakable attraction pulling him like an ocean current towards the young guitarist. This feeling was so sudden and so strong Gerard had no idea what to do with it. Quite frankly, the feelings frightened him. Could he be attracted to a boy? Was that allowed? What would Patrick say? questions flooded his mind, threatening to drown him. Well, he reasoned trying to quell the storm, he could just text him...and see what happened.

He did need a friend after all.