Gerard meets Frank for the first time.
It was a mistake for me to be doing this test. Science work untouched, my thirty minutes were used up with drawing. A simple circle, growing and expanding until the intricate design filled my page. The only useful information was my name, atop the page, highlighting another subject I was failing.
Art had become my escape. My way of dealing with my lack of social life.
“Pens down” was the inevitable verdict of the teacher. I packed up my things, handing my test face down to the teacher as I left the classroom.
I made my way quickly to my next class. English. A lesson that mildly interested me. Poetry was a good outlet. As I entered the class, I made my way to my seat. Back left, sat next to the wall. No one ever sat next to me. I took out my things as the classroom began filling up. Everybody ignoring me, trying to avoid sitting near me. I laughed to myself, despite the rumours. I did not bite.
The teacher entered, a short woman, of around thirty. Her red hair peppered with premature grey. She began to take the register, even though it was obvious the class was full. Halfway through this unnecessary process, there was a soft knock on the door.
Our head teacher entered, her soft brown hair tied in a high pony, her navy suit pristine.
“I’m here with the new student, Miss Thompson,” said the head teacher briskly, addressing the teacher while motioning for whoever was flanking her to enter. “He’s transferred from across town and has excellent potential”
“Name?” Miss Thompson said to the new kid, shielded from my view by the door.
“Frank” the boy replied, his voice calm. “Frank Iero”
“Right, there’s just one seat spare” she pointed to me “at the back, next to Gerard”
He entered the room; I kept my eyes down, drawing on a scrap piece of paper. I heard him pull back the chair and sit next to me but I refused to look at him. In the past, anyone who had ever sat next to me had insulted me.
“Hi, I’m Frank,” said the boy, a tinge of nerves in his voice.
“Gerard Way, resident freak, I’ve heard every insult so don’t even bother” I said sharply, eyes firmly glued to the picture blossoming beneath my fingers.
“You and me both” he laughed quietly “hey, that’s good” he was peering over my shoulder.
“Thanks” I wasn’t used to kindness; I looked up to smile at him.
I was struck by how attractive he was. He had a half smile playing on his lips as he gestured to my drawing.
“Can I look closer?”
“Sure” I replied, still dumbfounded by the perfection next to me.
He traced his fingers over the drawing. His chocolate-brown hair falling into his eyes.
“Holy shit, how do you draw so good?” he said, handing me back the paper.
“Practise” I replied softly, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.
“Mr Way” Miss Thompson said sternly “introductions aside, you have work to be getting on with”
I scanned the board for instructions, thankfully the task was easy; a poem or story on when you’ve felt different.
“Everyday” I muttered, opening my English book.
Frank laughed again, raising a hand to ask for his own book. Miss Thompson came over, and handed Frank a book. Instructing him to copy down the class information from the front of my book.
As she left, the boy sat in front of me turned around.
“Frank” he said sharply. Frank looked up, holding the boys gaze.
“Yes” Frank replied, his voice level and cool.
“Friendly advice” a vindictive smile broke across his mean features “Way here is a bit of a freak. Sucks peoples blood”
I felt myself go red.
“I like freaks” Frank said, his voice ice cold.
“Yes but Way has a… reputation”
“Shut the fuck up, Nathan” I said, anger lacing my words.
Nathan smirked, but turned round.
“People like him” Frank pointed to Nathan with his pen “are the reason I left my old school”
I didn’t reply, to busy putting my anger down on the page.
After thirty minutes of writing, Miss Thompson instructed us to swap books with the person sitting next to us.
Frank turned scarlet. “Please don’t judge,” he stammered, as he handed his book to me.
“I won’t” I re-assured him as I took his book.
Why must I feel like this?
I am not supposed to love you
Why do I dream of you?
I know you will never feel the same
Why must you tease me so?
Of all the people to fall for
Why not a girl - any girl?
I crave your touch
The forbidden touch of another boy
Why did I fall for you?
“Wow” I said simply, handing Frank his book.
“You’re not freaking out?” Frank looked shocked.
“Why would I?” I patted his shoulder re-assuringly. Surprised as a little jolt of electricity jumped between us.
“Because… everyone else did. I’m a guy…who likes a guy”
“So?” I smiled at him, my insides tying themselves into knots.
“Want to see why I transferred?” Franks caramel eyes met mine as I nodded.
Frank pulled up his shirt, exposing his stomach. My jaw dropped as I saw stitches, and lots of them.
“I went to kiss him” Franks smile was bittersweet at the memory, “he freaked, and let’s just say, broken glass bottles hurt”
Before I could reply, the bell for break rang out.
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