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The Kids in the Front of the Bus	By : druscillaryan Category: My Chemical Romance > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1285 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Kids in the Front of the Bus
- 2-White Trash
- 1
- 2
I don’t own Gerard, Mikey, Frankie, Billie, or Mike. I don’t own Liz, but her name and likeness is borrowed from a friend of mine.
Summary: The boy in the corner meets the girl with the knock-off Converses. The girl with the knock-off Converses has a brother who is fucking his best friend for fun. His best friend fucked the boy her brother broke up with the night after it happened. These are the kids that sit in the front of the bus because they can’t get seats anywhere else.

*

The Kids in the Front of the Bus
Chapter One: To Italy for a Pair of Shoes

He was sitting in the corner with earphones in, ignoring the rest of the room. He was sorely out of place in the church basement. But she wasn’t the star of Youth Group either, by any means. And the band name on his shirt was written on her sneakers in permanent marker.

She sat down next to him on the worn couch, pulling her feet up underneath her. He pulled an earphone out and looked at her. “Hi.” she said.

“I’m gay.” he said, moving to place the earphone back in.

“I’m a virgin. And not interested.” she added, pulling the earphone from his hand. “What are you listening to?”

There was a pause before the boy shrugged and seemed to decide the girl wasn’t Satan in knock-off Converses. “Taking Back Sunday.”

“Cool.” she said, smiling. Finally. Someone in the church basement that wasn’t a lemming. Or trying to get in her pants. “I’m Liz.” she said, leaning back against the couch.

The boy echoed her motions so the earphones wouldn’t be pulled out. “Frank.”

“Frankie! That’s so cute.”

“Frank.” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Frankie.” she insisted.

He eyed her for a minute before rolling his eyes and sighing. “I think they need to exorcise you.”

“My brother says that. In smaller words. And with more cursing. Usually punctuated by random acts of violence.”

“Is he here?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow. He would have noticed someone like that. And not just as a masturbatory image for later.

“Here? At church?” Liz giggled, nearly snorting. “He’s probably in his boyfriend’s truck either getting high or getting head.”

* * *

Billie Joe pulled the joint from his friend’s lips and pressed it to his. “You’re good at that for nearly being straight.”

“Just because I don’t drool over every being with a dick doesn’t make me a breeder, dumbass.” Mike said, taking advantage of Billie’s cell phone ringing to reclaim the joint.

“Gerard?” Billie asked, the marijuana making him giggle. “I know you still love me. I never said I didn’t love you, silly. No, I’m not high.” he said, falling against Mike and giggling into his neck. “I’ll come see you after I pick my sister up, okay? Bye bye.”

“You’re a tease.” Mike said, letting Billie take another drag off the joint.

“He’s good in bed.” Billie said, shrugging. “Flexible as hell. And he likes me to pull on his hair.”

“I know.” Mike said. “I fucked him when you broke up with him, remember?”

“You’ve never fucked him when he’s not drunk or overcome with grief.” Billie said, taking another hit from the joint. “Liz is going to be out of that church thing soon.”

“Put it out then.”

“God invented pot, Mike.”

“Man invented police officers.”

* * *

“Billie, I’m going to spend the night at Frankie’s house.” Liz said, jumping onto her brother’s back. “His mom said it was all right. She’s going to take me home to get clothes and then I’ll go to his place, ‘kay?”

“Are you finally going to get laid?” Billie asked, giving her a piggyback for about five feet.

“He’s gay.” Liz said, huffing. “Not everyone’s a slut like you. And don’t hit on him when your boyfriend’s in the car.”

“We’re not dating.” Billie said, shrugging his sister off his shoulder and walking up to the boy Liz had exited the church with.

“Gerard called again, didn’t he?” Liz asked coyly.

“That’s beside the point.” her brother said, annoyed. “You’re Frankie then?” he asked, poking his finger into the chest of the boy with the Alkaline Trio jacket.

“Frank.” the boy said, pushing Billie’s finger away. “You smell like pot, just so you know.”

“I better considering how much it cost.” the older boy said, crossing his arms. “So are you really queer or are you going to rape my sister as soon as you get her alone?”

The younger boy’s green eyes flashed. “Just because I’m not on my knees in front of you—”

“You’re both being dumb.” Liz said, pushing the two boys apart. “Billie, go fuck Gerard. Frankie, let’s go.” Her smile was almost infectious.

Billie gave a grin before he kissed the top of her head. “I better see you in school tomorrow, brat.”

* * *

Gerard was leaning against the front of his house, smoking. His eyes brightened when Billie climbed out of the truck, even if Mike was the one driving it. It drove off as the green-eyed boy walked toward him. “Aren’t you freezing?” Billie said, once he reached him, leaning forward until their lips were almost touching. “Do you always wear that eyeliner?” His lips pressed hard against Gerard’s, hard enough to push his head back against the house.

The boy with the dyed hair dropped his cigarette as his arms came up around Billie’s neck, a leg leaving the ground to wrap around his ex-boyfriend’s waist. “I love you.” he insisted softly as Billie’s lips moved to his neck.

“I know, baby.” Billie replied, his hands slipping under Gerard’s shirt, tugging it over his head. The fact that they were in the front yard of the other boy’s house seemed to have escaped his mind.

“My parents are gone.” Gerard said quietly, suddenly pulled in the direction of his door as Billie quickly turned toward it. Half tripping, half falling, he made it into the living room. They fell onto the couch that they had deflowered a few months before when Gerard’s dad was fucking a woman in Greece and his mother was shopping for a lover and a pair of shoes in Italy.

“Where’s your brother?” Billie mumbled, tugging Gerard’s shirt over his head and quickly kissing his way down to the button on his ex-boyfriend’s black jeans.

“Here.” said a voice from the doorway. “Jesus, get a fucking room.”

“You’re in it.” Billie said, without changing position or turning his head. “So get out.”

“Look, you little white-trash whore—”

“Mikey, don’t call him that!” Gerard all but yelled, sitting up and pulling his arms over himself. “Get out!”

“Don’t be such a wuss, Gerard.” the younger Way brother said, rolling his eyes and walking up the stairs.

“I don’t know why he says things like that.” Gerard said softly after a pause.

“It’s because he acts rich.” Billie said. He rested his arm on the back of the couch and looked at his ex. “You don’t.” It was out of character for his hand to softly brush Gerard’s cheek. “I’ve got to go, kid.”

“Why?” Gerard asked, catching Billie’s hand in his. “Because of him?” He nodded toward the stairs his brother had taken.

“No.” Billie said, smiling. “We’re not dating.”

“We could be.” Gerard said hopefully.

“I don’t want to cheat on you again.” Billie said. “And I would.”

“I could be okay with it.” Gerard said, his voice sickeningly passive at the statement.

“You deserve better.”

“But I want you.”

* * *

“He’s downstairs trying to get his whore of an ex to take him back.” Mikey said into the phone. “He’s probably out of food stamps or something.”

“You don’t have to be so mean about it.” the girl protested quietly. “He makes your brother happy, right?”

“Gerard’s got to marry a girl, Amy. He can fuck whoever he wants, but he can’t marry a guy. I mean . . . he just can’t.”

“You’re such a child sometimes, Michael Way.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m dating you.” he shot back.

“I deserve better than you.”

“But you can’t get better now, can you?” There was a pause during which Mikey took a drink from the beer bottle in his hand.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Amy said coolly, hanging up the phone.

Mikey closed his cell phone and threw it on the bed. Downstairs he could hear his brother pleading for Billie to stay and then the front door opening. He walked to his window and looked out. Gerard had grabbed Billie when he was halfway toward the truck at the end of the street. He was crying and still not wearing a shirt.

Mikey watched the scene, occasionally taking a drink from the bottle.

* * *

Billie kissed Gerard’s cheek and took his jacket off, slipping it around the younger boy’s shoulders. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“I love you.”

“I know, baby.”

* * *

Liz was flipping through Frankie’s CDs while he channel surfed. “You listen to a lot of local bands.” She held up a disc with the words ‘Polka Dot Bikini’ emblazoned on the front. “I met the drummer once. He spilled my drink at Starbucks.”

“Coffee gives you cancer.”

“Jesus can cure it.” she teased.

The boy on the bed glared at her. “I don’t go to Youth Group because I’m a Christian.” he said. “I’m a fag, Liz.”

“So’s my brother.” she replied.

“I didn’t see him at church.”

“He comes with me on Christmas and Easter.”

“My mom makes me go. I don’t like it. And I don’t believe in God.”

The girl shrugged and continued to read off the names of bands she knew. Frankie continued to channel surf, not noticing he was moving over to give the girl more room to sit on his bed.

She fell asleep about fifteen minutes later, her head on his shoulder.

The boy gave a small smile before he tucked her in and turned off the light, grabbing an extra blanket and laying down on the floor.

* * *

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Mike said.

“Just take me home.”

“You can't fuck with his head.”

“You took me there!” Billie yelled, nearly hysterically. “You didn’t have to. You could have told me I was stupid and taken me home.”

“I think you like him.” Mike said smugly.

“Even if I did,” Billie said finally, “it wouldn’t matter. His mom flew to Italy for a fucking pair of shoes, Mike. Mine don’t even have real laces.”
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The Kids in the Front of the Bus