Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Don't Stand So Close To Me
Chapter 2 - Bruise Pristine
14 reviewsThe room is completely silent save for the sound of Frank’s heart attempting to break through his ribcage.
5Exciting
Chapter 2 - Bruise Pristine
“Brian Pearson is such a dick,” Tawny’s words are laced with vehemence as she examines Frank’s bruised eye closely. Her small, cool hands cradle his chin, pushing his face up toward the dull glow of the cafeteria’s florescent lights. He wriggles away from her and insists: I’m fine. It’s a phrase that Tawny’s heard far too much throughout the five years of their friendship. But she decides not to push the issue any further… at least not today.
“Do you want to come over after school?” she asks him before placing a forkful of pasta salad in her mouth, “My mom has to work late tonight and my dad’s out of town. It’ll be just the two of us”
Frank says nothing for a moment as he pushes some green peas around in his plate, “You know I want to… but I can’t. Mrs. Blyton still has me doing this math tutoring thing and I really can’t get out of it.” He watches as Tawny frowns and can’t help but feel a pinch of guilt rush through him. He knows Mrs. Blyton wouldn’t mind if he flaked on her today. There are loads of other kids that are willing to fill in for him. Maybe you just want to see a certain black-haired someone. The idea floats around in his head but he quickly pushes it to the back of his mind. Shut-up. That’s definitely not why. Definitely not.
“I’m sorry,” he adds before stabbing one of his green peas. The tiny vegetable splits in two, spilling its insides out onto the grey, plastic tray.
“It’s okay,” she says in a sullen voice, “But you’re still coming with me to the cinema on Saturday, right?”
“Of course, yeah…”
Tawny watches her best friend worriedly as he continues to violently puncture his peas, “Are you okay, Frank? You’re acting really strange.”
He flicks his gaze up to her and says: “I’m fine”
____________________________ * ____________________________
Frank makes sure not to be late for his tutoring session that afternoon, but to his dismay, the classroom is once again, empty. He frowns, trying his best to suppress an overwhelming feeling of disappointment. He takes a seat in the front row and places his head on the desk, drumming his fingertips lightly on the dark wood. Maybe Gerard won’t show up at all today, Frank ruminates. He feels a dull ache in his chest at the thought but decides to ignore it. The light glow of the afternoon sun filters in through the open windows, making the mustard, yellow color of the walls seem even more grotesque. The light, blue linoleum floors are scuffed and scraped to the point of no return. Large, glossy posters cover the walls, projecting statements like: "Math = Success" and "Math, the only subject that counts." But despite its obnoxious disposition, Frank likes the atmosphere of the Math room. He's half-asleep when the classroom door finally opens.
Gerard Way slithers into the room, black backpack hanging loosely from one shoulder. He tosses it onto the floor and sits down. Frank watches as the older boy removes a black pen and a frayed notebook from his bag and places it on the desk. “Are we gonna do this, or what?” the seventeen year old asks gruffly.
“Um, yeah,” Frank mutters sleepily as he sits up in his seat, “D-do you have anything you want to work on today?”
Gerard just stares at him blankly, mouth twisted into a frown.
“Okay… well that’s fine. I, um, brought some worksheets that we can work on together,” Frank pulls out a sheet of paper from the pile on his desk and places it in front of Gerard.
“So, we’ll start with calculating area, is that okay?” the younger boy questions, turning to face his student.
The older boy simply shrugs.
“Well, the first one is pretty simple,” Frank continues, “You can s-separate this shape into four right angled triangles and a rectangle... you see?”
“Whatever” Gerard sighs, voice laced with disinterest.
“Then you find the area of the triangles with this formula” Frank explains, pointing toward the formula printed next to the shape.
“This is bullshit,” the older boy grumbles, folding his arms in defiance.
“No... it’s Pythagoras’s theorem,” Frank retorts, quickly becoming fed up with Gerard’s lack of co-operation.
“Well, I don’t fucking get it!”
“Look,” Frank says as he moves closer to the bigger boy, “This is the hypotenuse, this is the adjacent line and this is the opposite line,” his large, honey eyes flick up to Gerard to make sure he understands. The older boy smirks and nods, intentionally allowing his warm breath to blow across the other boy’s face. Frank is suddenly horribly aware of just how close they are. The urge to pull away is gnawing at his throat but he remains still. He’s not going to let Gerard screw with him… not anymore. Frank turns his gaze back to the sheet of paper and continues to explain, “And it’s pretty easy to solve. You just use the formula: A squared plus B squared is equal to C squared,” he speaks, not once stumbling over his words. And for a second, the diminutive boy is proud of himself. I’m not going to let big, bad Gerard get the best of me, he thinks.
But Frank’s thoughts all crash together, words dying on his lips as soon as he feels Gerard’s breath hit the back of his neck. There’s a delicious tug in the pit of his stomach as jolts of electricity race up and down his spine. Frank tries his hardest to swallow back the whimper that’s clawing at the back of his tongue. But Gerard persists, sending another burst of his minty, nicotine-scented breath whirling over the smaller boy’s exposed skin.
Ooh.
“D-do you… get it, now?” he manages to squeak out, keeping his eyes focused on the warped, dark wood of the desk. Gerard’s breath is hot and sticky, leaving the smaller boy’s flesh tingling and his nerves blazing. There’s a sinful stir between Frank’s legs and he can’t help but wish for death right then and there.
Gerard says nothing for a moment. Instead, he leans over the small boy’s shoulder and whispers heavily into his ear: “Bullshit.”
And that’s all it takes to make Frank snap. He violently wrenches away from the older boy, accidently knocking over the desk in the process. Sheets of paper scatter over the linoleum floors and the small boy hits the ground with a thud. Gerard laughs loudly, eyes full of derision, “You are such a spaz,” he snickers, stomach burning from laughter.
Frank frowns as he feels his cheeks flood with heat. It’s not fair that Gerard gets to make a fool out of him all the time. It’s not fair at all.
“And… and you’re a fucking jerk!” Frank screeches with all the fervor he can muster.
The room is completely silent save for the sound of Frank’s heart attempting to break through his ribcage. A feeling of absolute elation runs through his veins when he sees the look of surprise on Gerard’s face. This is the first time he’s actually evoked any sort of reaction from the older boy. Frank can’t help but smile. But as soon as he notices the way that Gerard’s look of shock has morphed into a dark, baleful sneer, he immediately regrets his words.
Uh-oh.
In a split second, the bigger boy has Frank pressed up against the wall. He pushes against the tiny boy’s chest with one arm and pins his head down with the other. The older boy’s face is aglow with malevolence. Frank squeezes his eyes shut, preparing himself for a solid punch in the face. But he never gets one.
“What happened to your face?” Gerard asks in a solemn tone, lessening his grip on the boy ever-so-slightly.
“W-what?” the younger boy babbles, far too stunned by the fact that he’s not bleeding yet to form a proper sentence.
Gerard sighs, dropping his arms to his side but still maintaining their closeness, “Your face, dipshit! What happened to it?”
The small boy instinctively reaches up to touch his bruised eye, lightly running his fingers over the battered skin. He’d forgotten all about the mark. “I- um, I… got hit,” Frank admits, not bothering to make up some pathetic excuse. It’s not like Gerard will care anyway… he’ll probably just laugh at him again.
“By who?” the older boy asks icily, gaze pointed to the floor.
There’s a short pause before Frank finally answers, “Brian Pearson.”
“Pearson” Gerard scoffs, shaking his head as he moves back toward his seat. Frank breathes a sigh of relief as he rubs his chest, waiting for his heart rate to return back to normal. He watches in confusion as Gerard picks up his fallen notebook and shoves it into his backpack.
“I, uh… I gotta go,” Gerard murmurs before walking out the door.
_____ * _____
“Brian Pearson is such a dick,” Tawny’s words are laced with vehemence as she examines Frank’s bruised eye closely. Her small, cool hands cradle his chin, pushing his face up toward the dull glow of the cafeteria’s florescent lights. He wriggles away from her and insists: I’m fine. It’s a phrase that Tawny’s heard far too much throughout the five years of their friendship. But she decides not to push the issue any further… at least not today.
“Do you want to come over after school?” she asks him before placing a forkful of pasta salad in her mouth, “My mom has to work late tonight and my dad’s out of town. It’ll be just the two of us”
Frank says nothing for a moment as he pushes some green peas around in his plate, “You know I want to… but I can’t. Mrs. Blyton still has me doing this math tutoring thing and I really can’t get out of it.” He watches as Tawny frowns and can’t help but feel a pinch of guilt rush through him. He knows Mrs. Blyton wouldn’t mind if he flaked on her today. There are loads of other kids that are willing to fill in for him. Maybe you just want to see a certain black-haired someone. The idea floats around in his head but he quickly pushes it to the back of his mind. Shut-up. That’s definitely not why. Definitely not.
“I’m sorry,” he adds before stabbing one of his green peas. The tiny vegetable splits in two, spilling its insides out onto the grey, plastic tray.
“It’s okay,” she says in a sullen voice, “But you’re still coming with me to the cinema on Saturday, right?”
“Of course, yeah…”
Tawny watches her best friend worriedly as he continues to violently puncture his peas, “Are you okay, Frank? You’re acting really strange.”
He flicks his gaze up to her and says: “I’m fine”
____________________________ * ____________________________
Frank makes sure not to be late for his tutoring session that afternoon, but to his dismay, the classroom is once again, empty. He frowns, trying his best to suppress an overwhelming feeling of disappointment. He takes a seat in the front row and places his head on the desk, drumming his fingertips lightly on the dark wood. Maybe Gerard won’t show up at all today, Frank ruminates. He feels a dull ache in his chest at the thought but decides to ignore it. The light glow of the afternoon sun filters in through the open windows, making the mustard, yellow color of the walls seem even more grotesque. The light, blue linoleum floors are scuffed and scraped to the point of no return. Large, glossy posters cover the walls, projecting statements like: "Math = Success" and "Math, the only subject that counts." But despite its obnoxious disposition, Frank likes the atmosphere of the Math room. He's half-asleep when the classroom door finally opens.
Gerard Way slithers into the room, black backpack hanging loosely from one shoulder. He tosses it onto the floor and sits down. Frank watches as the older boy removes a black pen and a frayed notebook from his bag and places it on the desk. “Are we gonna do this, or what?” the seventeen year old asks gruffly.
“Um, yeah,” Frank mutters sleepily as he sits up in his seat, “D-do you have anything you want to work on today?”
Gerard just stares at him blankly, mouth twisted into a frown.
“Okay… well that’s fine. I, um, brought some worksheets that we can work on together,” Frank pulls out a sheet of paper from the pile on his desk and places it in front of Gerard.
“So, we’ll start with calculating area, is that okay?” the younger boy questions, turning to face his student.
The older boy simply shrugs.
“Well, the first one is pretty simple,” Frank continues, “You can s-separate this shape into four right angled triangles and a rectangle... you see?”
“Whatever” Gerard sighs, voice laced with disinterest.
“Then you find the area of the triangles with this formula” Frank explains, pointing toward the formula printed next to the shape.
“This is bullshit,” the older boy grumbles, folding his arms in defiance.
“No... it’s Pythagoras’s theorem,” Frank retorts, quickly becoming fed up with Gerard’s lack of co-operation.
“Well, I don’t fucking get it!”
“Look,” Frank says as he moves closer to the bigger boy, “This is the hypotenuse, this is the adjacent line and this is the opposite line,” his large, honey eyes flick up to Gerard to make sure he understands. The older boy smirks and nods, intentionally allowing his warm breath to blow across the other boy’s face. Frank is suddenly horribly aware of just how close they are. The urge to pull away is gnawing at his throat but he remains still. He’s not going to let Gerard screw with him… not anymore. Frank turns his gaze back to the sheet of paper and continues to explain, “And it’s pretty easy to solve. You just use the formula: A squared plus B squared is equal to C squared,” he speaks, not once stumbling over his words. And for a second, the diminutive boy is proud of himself. I’m not going to let big, bad Gerard get the best of me, he thinks.
But Frank’s thoughts all crash together, words dying on his lips as soon as he feels Gerard’s breath hit the back of his neck. There’s a delicious tug in the pit of his stomach as jolts of electricity race up and down his spine. Frank tries his hardest to swallow back the whimper that’s clawing at the back of his tongue. But Gerard persists, sending another burst of his minty, nicotine-scented breath whirling over the smaller boy’s exposed skin.
Ooh.
“D-do you… get it, now?” he manages to squeak out, keeping his eyes focused on the warped, dark wood of the desk. Gerard’s breath is hot and sticky, leaving the smaller boy’s flesh tingling and his nerves blazing. There’s a sinful stir between Frank’s legs and he can’t help but wish for death right then and there.
Gerard says nothing for a moment. Instead, he leans over the small boy’s shoulder and whispers heavily into his ear: “Bullshit.”
And that’s all it takes to make Frank snap. He violently wrenches away from the older boy, accidently knocking over the desk in the process. Sheets of paper scatter over the linoleum floors and the small boy hits the ground with a thud. Gerard laughs loudly, eyes full of derision, “You are such a spaz,” he snickers, stomach burning from laughter.
Frank frowns as he feels his cheeks flood with heat. It’s not fair that Gerard gets to make a fool out of him all the time. It’s not fair at all.
“And… and you’re a fucking jerk!” Frank screeches with all the fervor he can muster.
The room is completely silent save for the sound of Frank’s heart attempting to break through his ribcage. A feeling of absolute elation runs through his veins when he sees the look of surprise on Gerard’s face. This is the first time he’s actually evoked any sort of reaction from the older boy. Frank can’t help but smile. But as soon as he notices the way that Gerard’s look of shock has morphed into a dark, baleful sneer, he immediately regrets his words.
Uh-oh.
In a split second, the bigger boy has Frank pressed up against the wall. He pushes against the tiny boy’s chest with one arm and pins his head down with the other. The older boy’s face is aglow with malevolence. Frank squeezes his eyes shut, preparing himself for a solid punch in the face. But he never gets one.
“What happened to your face?” Gerard asks in a solemn tone, lessening his grip on the boy ever-so-slightly.
“W-what?” the younger boy babbles, far too stunned by the fact that he’s not bleeding yet to form a proper sentence.
Gerard sighs, dropping his arms to his side but still maintaining their closeness, “Your face, dipshit! What happened to it?”
The small boy instinctively reaches up to touch his bruised eye, lightly running his fingers over the battered skin. He’d forgotten all about the mark. “I- um, I… got hit,” Frank admits, not bothering to make up some pathetic excuse. It’s not like Gerard will care anyway… he’ll probably just laugh at him again.
“By who?” the older boy asks icily, gaze pointed to the floor.
There’s a short pause before Frank finally answers, “Brian Pearson.”
“Pearson” Gerard scoffs, shaking his head as he moves back toward his seat. Frank breathes a sigh of relief as he rubs his chest, waiting for his heart rate to return back to normal. He watches in confusion as Gerard picks up his fallen notebook and shoves it into his backpack.
“I, uh… I gotta go,” Gerard murmurs before walking out the door.
_____ * _____
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this took so long but I honestly didn’t know what to do with it. But now I’ve got it all planned out and more updates are soon to come. Tell me what you think so far, please!
Title Credit: "Bruise Pristine" by Placebo
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