FicWad

Frank Iero was never very good with first impressions. Truth be told, anyone he'd ever met who took much stock in those didn't seem to like him. His first day at Newark High School was, of course, no exception. His eyes heavy with sleep, he gazed into his filthy bedroom mirror, musing briefly on how quickly he'd attract unwanted attention at his new school, which was no doubt filled with as many assholes, bitches and letdowns as the previous four.
The reflection which met his eyes was, to Frank, disappointing - his hair, which had been fashioned into a crude devilock, with black in the middle and white-blond sides, stuck out at odd angles and framed an olive-skinned face. He had chosen to wear a pair of tight, black pants, covered from ankle to thigh in various patches which sported the names of his favorite bands, collected over years of traveling and random shows. His shirt was simple - black, bearing the Misfits' iconic crimson ghost, grinning eerily up at Frank and any other person who happened to glance down at his chest.
The final, and perhaps most interesting, facet of his appearance that day was a fresh shiner, which caused his swollen green eye to exhibit a deep, violet tinge. Yep. He thought sarcastically, should be a great first day. Slinging a backpack over his shoulder, Frank wandered down the staircase that led him to his front door, said farewell to his mother, and began the trek to school, with a grimace on his lips and dread in his heart.

After making it through the first four classes of the day relatively unnoticed, Frank was surprised to find that it was lunch time. Time had dragged on so slowly that he was almost certain he was in his own personal hell, where school lasted forever with no breaks in sight. All things considered, lunch was hardly an improvement over classes. At least during class he could pretend to focus on schoolwork, but at lunch he (and everyone else around him) was painfully aware of his lack of friends. He clutched at his recently acquired cup of water nervously, scanning the lunch room for any sign of vacancy, where he might sit alone, undisturbed. Just as he was about to retreat to the bathroom, to hide and chug aqua in peace, he felt a sharp push against his backside.
He turned with a start, eyebrows furrowed in anger, preparing for an altercation from someone who had a problem with his hair, or his fucked-up face, or anything else high school morons could find to pick on - the possibilities were endless. He was surprised to see before him, not a jock with a sarcastic apology, but what was perhaps one of the most breathtaking creatures he had ever seen. It was tall (well, taller than Frank, who stood at a measelly five-foot-five) and alabaster-skinned, with deep, greenish eyes tinged black from sleepless nights and chin-length black hair, which was styled in a way that was so effortlessly cool that Frank actually felt envy boiling in his blood.
The man wore, instead of an expression of prejudice, one of sincere sympathy. He spoke breathlessly. "I didn't mean to bump into you." Frank merely stared before stuttering his way through "it's alright." The man, who must have been Frank's same age, seemed to exude a wiseness that only age could bring, and extended a pale, slender hand for Frank to shake. "Gerard Way." Pouty lips expressed these two beautiful words to Frank and he was hit hard. Were butterflies fatal Frank Iero would have been stone dead in about ten seconds. "Frank. Iero." Frank sputtered out his name in a way that he hoped would seem lackluster, and not desperate for attention.
"You're new here." Gerard said. His voice was slightly raspy and reminded Frank of a drug addicted ballerina - struggling, but god, so graceful. Frank was grateful for every word. He nodded. "Come sit with me." Frank nodded again, and followed this strange man out onto the school's campus, where the brilliant fall sunshine awakened his previously stoppered senses considerably.

Selecting a rather secluded place on a picnic table beneath an enormous tree, Frank was able to examine Gerard with more intensity. He truly was perfect in every sense of the word. Lean, but not lanky, his body was peppered with muscles in all the right places. His hair looked unwashed but fit him so well that Frank could hardly complain. With the combination of ultra-pale skin and red-purple bags underneath his eyes, Gerard looked dead in a way that was strangely sexy. And then Frank caught himself - sexy? A guy? Frank had, of course, been attracted to boys all of his life. However, it was one of those things, like many of his "issues," that he tended to sweep under the rug, instead of acknowledging or dealing with. So instead he led girls on until he got bored, never loved them, never fucked them, left them broken and tired and angry and never spoke to them again. It was his little game, and until he saw Gerard, he had thought that perhaps there was nothing more to romance than such trivialities.
During the lunch period (which was much shorter than Frank would have liked) they spoke to each other in a way that was almost hungry - Gerard asked Frank question after question. Frank consoled his raging hormones by convincing himself that Gerard was just being friendly, just asking questions any "first day of school" type friend might ask.
Eager to see more of Gerard, Frank discovered that they shared their next class. Gerard informed Frank that he had a younger brother, Mikey, who Frank was soon introduced to. Though attractive, Mikey held none of the mystery that Gerard did.
"So what are you into?" Gerard whispered to Frank in Calculus, eying their hawk-nosed teacher apprehensively - according to Gerard, she was "just about the biggest bitch in all of Newark," and loathed talking above all else. Frank grinned, considering the question before answering, he chose his words carefully and spoke in the smallest whisper he could manage. "I like music - punk, and metal, and any sort of alternative I can get my hands on.. the Misfits -" Here Gerard cut him off with a gesture toward his shirt and "obviously." Far from discouraged, Frank continued, "Black Flag, the Stooges, Joan Jett, Iron Maiden.." He trailed off, as Hawk-Nose was glaring down at the pair with an expression of utmost loathing. Once it was safe, Frank continued, "I also like comic books, and horror movies, and tattoos."
Gerard looked pleased by this answer, professing his love for comic books, punk rock, and horror films, before admitting to a deep fear of needles, which explained the lack of enthusiasm about tattoos. It was about five seconds later that their teacher's beady little eyes rested on them again. Frank tried to suppress a smile.
"Detention." She snapped, "Both of you. Today." Exchanging dark looks with his newfound friend, Frank sighed before retreating into silence. His first day and he'd already gotten written up. How typical.
It wasn't long after that a tiny, folded piece of paper had been pressed onto the desk before him. Frank glanced over at the hand that had passed it, then up, realizing rather stupidly that it had been, of course, Gerard. He unfolded the paper and read it.
So where'd you get that black eye? It read in tiny, but nonetheless beautiful, letters. Bringing a hand up to his face, Frank realized he was lucky Gerard hadn't asked earlier. I hit it on the car door right before we moved here. Frank scribbled, looking rather dismal at the sight of his chickenscratch placed next to Gerard's calligraphy.
Gerard passed Frank a sympathetic look, but no more notes.
Finally the class ended, sending Gerard off to art and Frank in the direction of Chemistry, followed by whispers from his peers of That's the new kid, he's already hanging around with the Ways and various other annoying bullshit.
Frank kept his eye on the prize - all he had to do was suffer through a couple more classes and a single detention and his first day of torture was over.