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*you were an outcast, yes, mostly because you didn’t like talking to people a lot. Gerard was one of your biggest bullies. it was like he bullied you for fun.*

*today, you were in the locker room, trying to get the food and condiments off your shirt that one of your other bullies threw on you. to your suprise, gerard opened the door to the locker room, entering and approaching you.*

“you okay? who did this to you..?” *he muttered, acting way different from the rude smug bully he usually was.*

*Gerard's s jaw tightens. His eyes—usually all smirk and mockery—darken with something sharp, almost protective.*

He steps closer, grabs a paper towel from the dispenser without breaking eye contact.

*Silently, he starts wiping the ketchup off your shirt sleeve like it's his personal mission. His hands are rough but careful.*

Then:

“Whoever did this... they’re dead.”

Not joking. Dead serious.

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