S.U.H

S.U.H is a frerard fanfic written by the Russian author Великое Возможно (Great Perhaps, if translated). I am a learning translator, and I decided to practice by translating this thing into English because this ff is one of my favourites, and i thought maybe it's a good idea to share the Russian killjoy legacy with the english speaking fellas haha. Enjoy?

[suh-eng]

Send to fuck

alternative title - Screw him

“Look at you; you can’t even make a proper coffee, it’s impossible to think about family with you! You are not able to take care of your husband!”

“What? How dare you! If you ever pitied me, I wouldn’t cry a whole night through in the bedroom, I’d sleep well, and the coffee would taste good!”

“Mom, dad…”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you like sobbing in the pillow and feeling sorry for yourself!”

“Mommy…”

“You are always acting like that! You just enjoy making me lose my temper! Unsympathetic bastard!”

“Dad, if you could give me some money to buy myself a breakfast…”

“And you are a hysteric, and all you do is look for a shoulder to cry on about how miserable and sad you are!”

“I think I’d better go…”

“Don’t you dare saying this! I wasted my youth on you, I gave you my life, I gave you all!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll steal something for breakfast…”

“Oh God, so what? Why do you say it like I owe you something for it? Nobody dragged you down the aisle involuntarily. I gave you both my youth and life too!”

“And for lunch I’ll find something in a trash can…”

“Asshole!”

“Bitch!”

“Oh my God!”

Frank slammed the door, but his parents wouldn’t notice it as they were busy with insulting each other. It’s amazing how a tiny cup of shitty coffee can become a reason of a huge argument.

Frank’s mood couldn’t be worse. Firstly, when he woke up this morning, he discovered that the clothes he has prepared for laundry was still dirty, because mom has forgotten about him when she started arguing with father. That’s why now he is wearing jeans with filthy knees and milk-stained t-shirt and looking like a real piglet. And secondly, mom was so busy screaming at dad that she forgot children are basically supposed to have breakfast, and dad didn’t even think about giving him a bit of cash so he could buy something in the cafeteria. Yeah, it was a shitty morning.

The classes were starting soon, so Frank grabbed his board, jumped on it and was almost ready to go, when suddenly the belt of his bag cracked and everything that was inside fell out to the ground. As he was looking at the pencil that was peacefully rolling towards the bushes, Frank loudly cursed and violently kicked the science textbook.

"For the God’s sake, why can't all of this just stop existing?!"

Crawling along the cold asphalt and collecting textbooks and notebooks, Frank realized that he was definitely late for the first lesson, and now this old woman will have another reason to mock him. And when he got up and discovered that he had torn his shirt in the bushes, he officially put this morning on the list of the lamest mornings in the history of mankind, and then he jumped on the board and rushed off to school.

Being ten minutes late, Frank made his way to the desk at the end of the class under the teacher’s disapproving gaze and nasty grins of the classmates. He opened the paragraph and zealously began to absorb everything that the teacher said quickly pulling out a textbook with a notebook on his desk. He has been an excellent pupil all his life. Ever since Frank was a child, his parents kept telling him about the importance of the good education, and they have chosen him a university in New York when he was only in the fifth grade; “there is a high level of teaching, every teacher is a Doctor of Philosophy, the best medics study there” – that’s what father was never tired of saying. And Frank honestly has been working all these years in order to pass all the exams, get the highest scores, enter that uni in New York and become the most qualified dentist of all the most qualified dentists that ever existed.

Four classes have passed at such pace. Frank was listening carefully, writing everything down and quietly rubbing his empty stomach, which nevertheless was growling so loud that it created an echo in the silence of the class. On the fourth break Frank met his new acquaintance from yesterday, Alexa, and for some reason Frank felt something unpleasant, so he wanted to leave. But he didn’t do that.

“So, how’s the test?” she asked, sounding amused in some way, with her voice of a young smoker. “Nailed it, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, nailed it,” answered Frank, as if he was talking to the wall and not to the girl.

“I didn’t. I don’t know a damn,” she let out some kind of a chuckle. “Straight A’s, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re a nerd?” she sneered.

“No, I just get A’s,” Frank hissed between gritted teeth.

“Chill, man,” Alexa snorted.

Frank felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like her; he didn’t like her at all, and that’s why he didn’t want to argue with her, it was an unpleasant feeling, even a creepy one. After all, he was a newbie, he didn’t have to be rude to anyone.

“Okay,” he tried to soften his voice, “it’s science now, isn’t it?”

“Yup. A combined class.”

“It’s not a school, it’s a whole mansion. Where’s that classroom?”

“Ugh, you do need the map,” she smiled at him. “It’s on the fifth floor. Let’s go, I’ll show you.”

Alexa lifted her bag from the floor, and pulled Frank’s sleeve. She headed to the stairs, making her way through the crowd of hasty students.

“And what is a combined class?” Frank asked, panting and trying not to get lost in the crowd.

“Don’t you know? Didn’t you have that in your previous school?” asked Alexa, turning her head back for a second.

“Nah, I didn’t.”

She quickly ran up the stairs to the fifth floor, and only when they were standing in front of the needed classroom, she threw her bag on the windowsill and answered him.

“A combined class is when a classroom is getting stuffed with two groups of students of the same year. We always have combined science, P.E. and history.”

“Ah,” murmured Frank. “Is that convenient or what?”

“It’s fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yup. The more the merrier, right? Besides, Pierrot is always pulling something. Psycho. God, I wanna smoke.”

“Pierrot?”

“Yeah, oh, look, the class is open, let’s go.”

Alexa, all frisky, jumped off the windowsill and waltzed in with the rest of the kids, leaving Frank all alone. But he was okay with that.

The bell has rung. The last student has come into the classroom, and Frank had to leave the window and follow him. When Frank came in, he was amazed by the size of the auditorium. He has never had such a huge classroom back in his previous school. Two groups of students could easily fit in that one.

Having hard experience, he wasn’t even trying to sit with anyone and just headed straight to the empty desk at the back of the class. And while it was fine in the usual classroom, now it was terribly inconvenient. How’s he supposed to hear anything? But he had nothing to do with that.

Sort of getting settled, Frank looked around the room. That girl with long black hair, wearing it in two pigtails, was nice. With her short plaid skirt and a bright red lipstick, she looked cute and sassy at the same time.

Staring at her, Frank didn’t even notice someone who walked in the auditorium, and everyone became silent. The Beautiful Girl was sitting quiet too; she turned her head to the door, and Frank also turned around to look at whatever caught everyone’s attention.

Right by the door there was a boy. He was squeezing the strap of his bag, while everyone looked at him with some kind of an evil judgment. Clumsily shaking his long black hair off his face, he took a tiny, very shy step forwards, and someone from the back row started chanting:

The scrawny lover With a long neck Will be His last mistress!

And Frank didn’t understand why, but every single person started laughing, even his Beautiful Girl was glinting with loud laughter, what made her no longer beautiful in Frank’s eyes. He knew for sure they all were laughing at that guy, but he couldn’t understand why.

The boy angrily looked around the laughing crowd and headed towards the desks to take a seat, but kids were putting bags and legs on the nearby seats, or even pushing the chairs down. Nobody wanted to sit near him.

He went around every seat, and finally got to Frank’s place, looking as if he was asking a permission to sit there. Now, when he was standing so close, Frank could see him better, and his first thought was “this bag must be so heavy it’s gonna break his shoulder”. He was so weird, so… slender, fragile, with a glossy fever burning in hazel eyes, with black, terribly messy hair and amazingly thin fingers.

He was odd, and Frank was staring at him until he questioningly raised an eyebrow and coughed a little, as if he was trying to draw Frank’s attention.

Frank blinked a few times, as if he was trying to wake up, and desperately looked around. Everyone was looking at them and waiting for something.

The boy wasn’t welcome there. So Frank gave in to some kind of an impulse and shook his head and put a bag on a nearby seat, banishing the boy. He noticed the satisfied smiles of the tall strong guys that were sitting somewhere in the front row. They even winked at him, and Frank unwillingly felt happy about doing everything ‘right’ and not making contact with an outsider.

“Poor, poor Pierrot, nobody wants you,” some blondie drawled, and everyone burst laughing.

“You know what,” the boy said with a quiet but clear voice; it was nice and even soothing, in Frank’s opinion. “Fuck you,” he proudly raised a hand, getting up his middle finger, demonstrating it to every person in the auditorium.

With those words, he just sat on the floor; he sat on the floor just like that, taking the textbooks out of his bag and really preparing for the lecture, sitting on the real goddamn floor. Frank was taken aback by it.

A few seconds later, a teacher has come into the classroom, and she definitely has noticed Pierrot among all of the students, but, surprisingly, she didn’t say anything to him. The lecture has started.

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link to the picture link to another picture

link to the artist’s insta

[suh-eng]

an update:

from now there will be illustrations to the chapters

they are made by the FABULOUS artist Hide Yoko! she gave me a permission to post her art here in this blog!

here is where she posts her art!!! link & link aaand she also takes commisions!!

and here's a link to the whole album of the illustrations: link

i will post links to the original chapters and to artist's instagram after every chapter.

it's summer holidays so hopefully there's going to be more updates in this blog

p.s.: as tumblr DOESN'T show the pictures (at least i dont see them), i will also leave a link to the picture on another resourse i hope it works and you will see the beautiful illustrations!!!!!

[suh-eng]

Chapter 1. His name is Pierrot

“You never think about us! Sometimes I just don’t know why I married you, Iero!”

“God damn it, I’m working like a dog every day to earn us a living, and I only get rebukes in return!”

“Exactly! You think about your work more than you think about us!”

“Don’t you start on that!”

“Don’t you shut me out! When was the last time you talked to your son? Do you even know what’s going on in his life? What if he started smoking because of lack of his father’s attention?”

“I already have started,” Frank nearly blurted out, taking a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket when the door slammed behind his back, but he stopped himself. He loved his parents. Man, he really did, but these everyday scenes became unbearable. The morning used to start with them venting everything that they accumulated overnight on each other, and in the evening they were coming clean with everything they haven’t said in the morning. And it always was coming down to one thing: around 11 PM mom was shutting herself down in the bedroom on the second floor and crying her eyes out, and dad was lying on the small sofa in the living room with and sighing, and they both were thinking over the things that they’re going to tell each other the next day. And when there was nothing left to say, they were sniping at Frank. He loved them. Man, he really loved them, but he was looking forward to their divorce.

Frank took a first drag and looked around. He has been living in this city for two weeks now and he hasn’t seen anything further the street his house was on yet, but he already totally hated it. Because he never wanted to leave his homeland, his beloved and dearest New Jersey, where he was familiar with every alley and every trash can. Because he couldn’t give a toss about this damn Atlanta with its noise, sour looks of the passers-by and the new school. Because his parents were too selfish and they ruined his life, they took him away from the land he loved just because some kind of a family therapist claimed that the change of the scenery can help to establish happy domesticity. But nothing was established. Loud scenes, broken dishes, eyes red from crying, a miserable son.

Frank threw the cigarette butt away, got on the board and headed towards the Westlake High School, which should have become his second home for a whole year.

For the first time he found himself further than thirty feet away from the house. Passing down the streets of the new city, he couldn’t help but compare it to his home and curse the state of Georgia for the umpteenth time. He already didn’t like it there. The streets were too clean, people too dull, and the building of the school, at where he had arrived in ten minutes, too different from the one he’s used to.

Westlake High School was one of the best schools in Atlanta, that’s why they sent Frank here. But looking at all those boys in the snapback caps, girls in miniskirts and the boom box right in the middle of the schoolyard that was ready explode from the powerful hip-hop, it wasn’t easy to believe that all of Atlanta’s prodigies study here. Nervously pulling up the strap of his bag, Frank pressed his skateboard to his hip and headed to the entrance under the curious stares. He had to show up at the principal’s office before classes start.

The second he walked through the door of the new school, he heard the loud pop, shrieking girls and hollow noise of laughter and whistling from the outside. He then looked behind and saw two swearing high-school girls, from head to toe covered in something yellow and sticky, fly into the school at a crazy speed. Making the same loud and indecent noise, they hid behind the door of the ladies’ room, slamming it very hard, and people from the outside were still laughing. “They’re all psychos here,” thought Frank, and nervously looking around, he went right down the hall in search of the principal’s office.

Apparently, the school of psychos was run by the short man, not young, but not old yet, wearing terracotta suit. He met Frank while sitting in his leather chair and looking through papers, with glasses on the bridge of his nose and black scruffy hair. When he saw someone came in, he politely put everything away and smiled graciously, suggesting him to take a sit with a gesture.

“So, Mr. Iero, you come from New Jersey, right?” he said quite friendly, opening Frank’s file.

“Yes, sir,” Frank answered with the same politeness.

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes, sir,” totally lied Frank.

“You have a really good school record. Simply excellent,” said the principal, smile growing wider.

“Yes. I want to apply to a medical college.”

“Great! We need students like you.”

With the same wide smile the principal reached into his bureau and drew a pile of papers and a lot of colorful files out of it. Frank swallowed and glanced at the principal’s table. The nameplate read that this weird funny man’s name was Mr. Goldman.

“Here! Found it!” cheerfully proclaimed Mr. Goldman, picking a sheet of paper from the pile. “Your schedule, Mr. Iero. Try not to get lost in the classrooms,” he giggled joyously.

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope, Mr. Iero, we are not going to have any problems,” the principal’s face instantly became serious, he propped his glasses on his nose with a finger, and now there wasn’t a trace of the funny man wearing a funny suit. “Our school has a Charter that should be upheld by every student. You are no exclusion. You seem to me a pleasant enough young man, please, don’t ruin this impression.”

Frank was getting a little anxious.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Mr. Goldman took on the guise of the funniest and merriest person Frank has ever seen back, and his glasses dropped on the bridge of his nose again. “I’m very glad we had an understanding. You can go, the classes are starting soon. Goodbye, Mr. Iero.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

Frank rose to his feet and walked out of the principal’s office. He liked this man. He was quite funny and kind, but strict and serious when it is required. It was three minutes before the bell.

However, Frank managed to find the classroom only four and a half minutes later, and that’s why when he shyly knocked in the door and walked in on stiff feet, thirty five pairs of eyes were staring at him. And the thirty sixth pair that belonged to the teacher who wasn’t very happy about him.

“Do you really think that getting late for the very first lesson here is the best way to establish yourself, Mr. EE-ero?” her voice was gritty, with an unpleasant tone of disgust.

“Actually, it’s EYE-ero,” Frank corrected her timidly, but the teacher ruthlessly cut him off, while he was mid-sentence.

“And anyway, Mr. EE-ero, why are you late?”

God alone knows how much effort Frank put to fight the temptation to take his board from the bag and punch that arrogant hag.

“It took me some time to find the classroom,” he hissed between gritted teeth and squeezing fists in the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

Everyone chuckled.

“Well, then I will give you a map. Sit down.”

“Thank you very much!” almost said Frank, but he held back.

In the class, there were a lot of empty seats, but the looks of other students were making it very clear that Frank wasn’t very welcome. That’s why he had to sit on the single lonely chair in the back of the class right next to the wall. “Fucking jerks,” Frank thought, when he looked at satisfied faces of his new classmates, and the memories of his old friends, so kind and funny, that have been left in New Jersey slipped into his head, making his heart squeeze from the unbearable sadness. He shouldn’t have sat there on this chair, alone, at the back of the class! He should have been taking notes after Dr. Byde, sitting behind his old painted desk, and then, after the lessons, he should’ve been riding to the skateboard park racing the dearest people he had. But all nostalgic thoughts had to be interrupted because the teacher began explaining the topic, and Frank diligently began writing down every word because he needed the highest scores in order to go to the university.

That’s how two first lessons went by. Frank scribbled, memorized, and tried his best ignoring the fact that his classmates were constantly staring at him. He was very angry and he wanted to run back to his dusty New Jersey so bad, that honestly, he couldn’t help but begin thinking everyone here in Westlake High was completely insane, and when a bright-orange ball flew in through the window and shattered the glass, he became convinced they all were psychos here.

Four lessons later, Frank felt his stomach has stuck to his back, and although he was still disoriented in that huge school, he went looking for the cafeteria. It was quite crowded here, that is why after standing a few long minutes in the line he finally bought a tiny sandwich and a juice pack and headed towards the little empty table near the window. And the second he landed his butt on the chair, a piece of oatmeal goop flew just above him, a couple inches away from his head. A piece of cereal. Like, the flying cereal, you know. Someone shouted behind him, and an impressive piece of the cereal smashed into the wall with a loud squish and then slowly dripped into an ugly puddle.  “Psychos, fucking psychos!” thought Frank, grabbing his lunch and running away from the cafeteria with, you know, the flying oatmeal!

Barely sitting through the last two lessons, which he wanted to escape so much, Frank was so happy going outside and taking a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. He really wanted to go home.

Once the tip of his cigarette was lit, he heard a bit gruff voice of a girl from behind.

“You got a light?”

Frank turned around and saw his new classmate standing in front of him. She was a diminutive brunette with her hair dyed black, and she wore a really short skirt.

“Yeah, here,” he handed her a lighter and took a first drag.

“Thanks, Frank,” she said, returning a lighter and sweetly taking a puff too.

Frank looked at her again. Alexa, Frank thought that’s her name was, was quite a nice girl, as nice as a girl in big heavy military boots with a cigarette in her hand can be.

“You are Alexa, right?” asked Frank to break the silence.

“Yeah,” the girl shook her head. “What you think? Do you like it here?”

“No,” Frank said honestly. “You all are psychos here. I want to go home.”

Alexa shook the ashes off to the ground.

“And where are you from?”

“I’m from New Jersey.”

“And why psychos?” she laughed meekly, making a sly face.

Suddenly, Iero became overwhelmed by a wave of confused resentment.

“Because this morning I saw two yellow sticky girls running into the restroom, because a big orange ball broke a window in the hall, because I was nearly killed by an oatmeal missile, that’s why!” he told off, throwing a cigarette into the puddle and putting his hands in his pockets.

This time, Alexa glinted excitedly with a loud laughter, clutching her stomach and leaving Frank confused, well, because the flying oatmeal is so fucking hilarious!

“That’s just a normal reaction for all newcomers,” she said, wiping the tears of laughter. “This is terribly funny,” she laughed again.

“Really? And how often do you throw oatmeal at each other?”

A gaggle of boys passed by, and Frank felt a weight of the hostile gazes and grins with his whole body.

“No, not really,” said Alexa. “And it’s not us. It’s Pierrot.”

“Pierrot?”  Frank repeated, baffled.

“Yes, Pierrot,” the girl said softly. “Wacky Pierrot.”

“Who in the hell’s that?”

Alexa smiled again, a hint of hostility showed on her young face.

“Well, he’s the real freak. That was his job with the broken window, and a bomb with the yellow paint too, and that’s him who is throwing the oatmeal. He’s crazy. And we call him Pierrot because he reminds of a wacky pale-faced doll. I’m sure you’ll meet him. He’s in our year.”

“Now we’re going to meet some weird Pantaloon’s puppet,” Frank said, looking tired, than he turned around and headed home, where another load of scenes and homework have been waiting for him.

-------- link to the picture

link to another picture

link to artist’s insta

[suh-eng]

info, auhtor’s note + translator’s note

S.U.H by Великое Возможно

fandom: My Chemical Romance pairing: Frank Iero x Gerard Way rating: nc-17 133 pages, 34 chapters 

summary:

i am not going to apologize for what I’ve done anyway.

hey, pierrot?

author’s note:

Here’s what was used in this fanfic:

Poems Red Mass and Song Of The Gallows from Albert Giraud’s “Pierrot Lunaire”

Spleen by Afanasy Fet

The White Stripes — We’re Going To Be Friends 

Gerard’s lullaby – Scorpions - Born To Touch Your Feelings

Frank’s lullaby – Scorpions - Miracle

My Chemical Romance - I'm not Okay

My Chemical Romance - The World is Ugly

“There’s a messy sea in front of me“ - a quote from Matsuo Monroe’s “Teach me how to die“

Placebo - Pierrot the Clown

“Just hold me tight when I cry in your arms“ - taken from an english girl’s twitter

Egypt Central - White Rabbit

James Blunt - Goodbye My Lover

This is my last work on ficbook.net. Not because something is bad, but because this really ends here. I want to thank you because I have the best readers. I love every single one of you.

looklooklook what we have here  link to a fanfic link to a fanfic

* link to a fanfic more, more pretty things! link to a fanfic

very cool fanart from the loyal reader! *fanart !fanart fanart ♥fanart !fanart

translator’s note:

my love for this ff is undying, my respect for the author is infinite. this is my attempt to show russian killjoy legacy to the rest of the world lol

to be honest i was sure that the author won’t answer to me but! they did! and they gave me a permission! and! i had a chance to tell them in person how effing much i admire them!

the chapters’ names may seem a bit weird. they are originally written in english but like they are not very grammatically correct. although i thought it wouldn’t be appropriate to change them. let’s keep the author’s orthography. but when i feel ilke it i will write an alternative name of the chapter below the original one. 

oh and btw if you ever want to become maybe............. a beta............. i will love you forever........................ but if you could correct any of the mistakes i’m gonna make......... you are still very welcome///// waiting for any messages in dm/////