FicWad

Frank Iero stared up at the big stone building that was his new school. A sense of dread settled in his stomach and he began to feel sick. The move to New Jersey had been difficult, sure, but not as bad as the thought of a new school.

He hadn't had any friends at his old school, but at least everyone had gotten used to him and, for the most part, ignored him completely. Sure, there was the occasional tripping, teasing whispers to friends behind hands (as though he had no idea what they were talking about), and the names. Faggot, fairy, queer, homo, he'd heard them all.

It had stopped bothering him, and he was okay with everything. He didn't mind not having any friends, as long as everyone left him the fuck alone. He wished he could believe even for a second that it would be the same at this new school. He checked his school map. Park View Community High School, home of the mighty Beavers. He checked again. Beavers. Good God, this was going to be worse than he thought. Taking a deep breath, he trudged into the school, on the hunt for the administrations office.

Luckily, he had gotten there late, so everyone was in their classrooms. He had planned it that way, just so he wouldn't have to walk into the office with a black eye and blood streaming from his lip, the word FAGGOT probably written in Sharpie on his forehead. With help from the map, he found the office without too much trouble.

He walked in and immediately regretted it. He could already tell that he didn't belong here. There were a few other kids in there, the boys wearing name brand polo shirts and starched and ironed khaki pants, and the girl wearing a mid-thigh length skirt and a tank top underneath a blue cardigan. Not an ounce of black on anyone, and the only other person wearing eyeliner like Frank was the girl, and that seemed to be the only thing that he and the blonde prep had in common. He gulped. This could not be good.

Frank cleared his throat and went up to the desk, where he attracted a disdainful look from the clerk. Over the rims of her eyeglasses, she took in his black Iron Maiden t-shirt, tight, ripped jeans, and matted down black hair. She winced as he clicked his tongue ring against his teeth.

"You must be..." she tore her gaze away from his appearance and checked her papers. "Frank Iero," she read, mispronouncing his name like ee-air-ooh.

"It's Iero," he said, pronouncing it correctly. She shot him a look and he gulped again. "I'm--new..." he continued, trying to cover. "I need my...my uhh...schedule?" he asked quietly. His feet squirmed in his old black chucks and he had his hands clasped behind his back.
"Who punched you in both eyes, pussy-boy?" one of the boys whispered, just loud enough for Frank to hear. Whatever. Let him make jabs about his eyeliner, who cares? Frank did, he admitted to himself. He followed the clerk's directions to the guidance counselor's office. DR. JOHNSON adorned the placard outside the door. Frank tentatively knocked, half-hoping this Johnson guy wouldn't be there so he could go home.

"Come in," Frank was not expecting to hear a women's voice. All of the administrators at his old school had been men. He walked in slowly and saw a middle-aged woman of slim build, who may have been pretty at one time, but now just looked defeated. The minute Frank walked in, a look of disdain passed over her face and Frank lost all hope in finding any friends, or at least peace, in this school.

He sat through a talk with Dr. Johnson and nodded as she explained the procedures. Same thing everywhere. He took his schedule and turned down the offer of a student guide. All he needed was someone who had to be with him all day, making non-stop fun of him. Frank walked solemnly out of the office, hoping for the bell to ring before he made it to his first hour so he wouldn't have to feel everyone's eyes on him, 'the new kid'. Unfortunately, the classes at this institution were longer than at his old school because of block scheduling. Whose bright idea was it to make odd and even days?

Frank shook his head to try settling his nerves and reached for the doorknob. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, bracing himself for the worst.

As he had anticipated, all eyes turned to him, the intruder on their little world of...Frank checked his schedule again...AP US History. APUSH, as it was abbreviated on his schedule.

"May I help you?" the teacher, another glance at the schedule told him it was a Mr. Dennison, asked politely. The first person not to scowl or wince at Frank's appearance. He gulped.

"I'm...uhh--Frank Iero...I'm...I'm new..." He mumbled.

"Ahh yes," Mr. Dennsion said, nodding. "Our new student. Class, this is Frank Iero, he just moved here, and I expect you all to be warm and welcoming..." the look on this teacher's face clearly stated that he didn't expect that at all, that he highly doubted that anyone would lend this new boy a pen, let alone be 'warm and welcoming'. "Mr. Iero," he said, addressing Frank once more. "Was the schedule explained to you?" Frank shook his head. "Well, today is an odd day, so you go to classes one, three, five, and seven. Tomorrow is an even day, and you go to classes two, four, five, and six. You have fifth period every day and lunch is after fifth hour. Understand?" Frank nodded. "Alright then, take a seat, we were just discussing..."

Frank tuned him out and scanned the room for an empty seat. There were plenty, but none of the people beside them looked very nice, or at least like they would ignore him. He finally spotted a cluster of empty seats, and sat himself at one of them, glad to be alone and in the back of the room.

That, of course, couldn't last. As Frank was copying the notes off the board, he sensed that someone had sat down next to him. He was afraid to look up, so he just kept copying as if he hadn't noticed. A hand gruffly pushed his shoulder, messing up his writitng. Frank bit his lower lip and slowly looked up at his assailant.

A boy, much taller than Frank, was sitting there. He was of stockier build than Frank, and his hair was cut short and bleached a white-blonde. He had eyes that were almost green, and dark black eyebrows that gave his natural hair color away. His face was quite attractive, flawless skin and mysterious features. Frank gulped, hoping this cute boy wouldn't hurt him too badly, what with the teacher in the room and all.

"Nice eyeliner, faggot," he whispered. Frank set his jaw and turned to face the board again, intent on ignoring this desperately attractive boy. But this boy had other plans. He grabbed the back of Frank's neck and twisted his head around, so they were facing each other.

"Don't touch me," Frank muttered, trying (and failing) to pull away.

"Why," the boy whispered, not letting up his grip on the smaller boy's neck. "Does it get you hot?" he moved so that their faces were just inches apart. Frank glanced around to see that everyone else was up towards the front. Nobody could see nor hear what was going on in the back of the room.

"Does my breath in your face make you squirm? Does the feel of my hands on your skin make the feeling start in your groin, and branch out to your stomach, and your chest, and the tips of your fingers?" Frank could feel the heat of the boy's breath on his face, and wanted to yell out, "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes!" he had to restrain himself. This boy, no matter how decievingly handsome he was, was just messing with him. Trying to get him riled up. Frank looked down, doing his best not to lock onto those beautiful eyes. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, faggot," the boy said, speaking slowly and softly, but harsh at the same time. He dipped one finger below Frank's chin, tilting his head upwards. "I'm Gerard Way, your worst nightmare," with that, he kissed the tip of Frank's nose, got up, and walked back to his seat.

Frank gulped thickly, half of him relieved that nothing had happened, the other half begging Gerard to come back, to touch him again, to slide his soft hands all over his body, and make him feel what he'd been describing. Frank didn't even notice that his breathing had become laboured and heavy. Biting his lip, he returned to his notes as though nothing had happened, but on the inside, his mind was swimming with different messages coming from all his senses at once. Beautiful, handsome Gerard: his smell, his tingling touch, the beautiful melody of his voice, and Frank's stomach quelling beneath imagining how he might taste...


First Chapter! Okay, this is my very first Ferard fanfic, so I'm kind of experimenting with everything. For looks, Everyone is how they look right now, except obviously Gerard whose got the short, bleach-blonde hair. Oh, and Mikey has glasses and long hair, straightened, just to clear that up. SO yeah. Reviews please, it makes my day. What do you think so far? Should I keep going? Got any suggestions? Do you hate it with a passion? Just let me know. So yeah, thanks for reading! More chapters up soon. OverAndOutXX