FicWad

Gerard rolls over in bed and groans, groping for his alarm clock as the introduction to Hell's Bells sounded on his CD player. It's seven in the morning – an inhuman hour that no one should ever have to see, and AC/DC only makes it minimally easier.

“I fucking hate school,” the teen mutters to no one in particular. He's exhausted, having spent far too long around Bob's house last night, playing video games. The amount he can't be fucked to go to school today is overwhelming – he hates the place. He fits every cliché that give his peers reason to hate him, and in turn they make his life Hell. It's only really Bert that makes his life a little more bearable - well, him and Mikey.

Gerard crawls out of bed, dragging his duvet behind him. It's beginning to get cold again, even though it's only the beginning of October. Winter comes early in New Jersey, and despite the fact that Gerard's no fan of the sun, he hates getting out of bed to a cold room on a Monday morning even more. Which is exactly what he has to do now.

Still huddled under the covers, the teen grabs his school shirt where it hangs ironed and ready for him on a chair. Following it are a pair of tight black jeans and an incredibly ugly school tie. He knots it loosely, leaving the top button of the shirt open. The trousers aren't part of the uniform, and the tie should really be strangling him, but like most students, he'd given up on following the rules on his appearance when he was fifteen. Now, he even gets away with eyeliner and for-going the blazer that he should supposedly by wearing. Instead, he has a leather jacket.

Gerard hugs the duvet tight around himself for a moment longer, wanting to savour the body warmth trapped for a blissful moment longer. Then, he shrugs it off, wincing as the cold air hits him.

“Fuck.”

His mom's already downstairs, her usually wild blonde hair tamed slightly for her day job. It's just down at the local store, but she enjoys it, and it keeps them off the street and stocked in coffee. Now, she smiles over her own cup, sipping the hot, bitter liquid.

“Morning honey.”

“Hey, Mom. There enough left in the pot?”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Of course, that's all you care about!” Her eyes are twinkling though, showing that she's joking. “Yeah, there's loads left. I just boiled it and I don't drink it by the bucketful like you and Mikes!”

“What do we do?” The youngest Way appears in the room, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. “Uh, it's too fucking early.”

“Don't swear,” their mom says automatically, although by this point, that particular battle's already lost, “And drink too much coffee.”

“Thanks, mom. Glad to know I have your permission to do so,” Mikey joins his brother at the pot, and pours himself a mug of the dark drink. “Hey, if I get the shakes again, can I not go to school?”

“Aw, are they giving you shit again, baby?” Donna asks, her eyes widening with worry.

“Yeah, don't worry though – it's nothing major,” Mikey replies, glancing sideways at his brother.

Both of them downplay exactly how much they hate school, especially to their mother. It's not like she can fix it, and they don't want her to worry. They let their dad in on a bit more, but mostly keep their problems to themselves, only really talking to each other about the metaphorical piles of shit they get thrown at them.

It's hard to say who's worse off – Gerard's been getting crap for longer now, and had no older brother to protect him. On top of that, he's a 'faggot' and that's never going to be the best way to get friends, unless you're willing to be some chick's gay best friend. Even if he was, this would still be a problem, as they go to an all-boys school.

They're both weird, and geeky, and like metal music, and apparently anyone of these things is enough to attract negative attention. The fact that all three apply to them, just makes the insults be dispensed even more heavily.

To make matters worse, Mikey's quiet. This makes it almost impossible for him to make friends, as most of the time he comes across as boring and aloof. Anyone who spends the time breaking through the shell he's built to protect himself though, see's that this is really not the case. Unfortunately for the kid, it's easier to pick on him than it is to get to know him.

All the same, he's still got more friends than Gerard.

A horn beeps outside, signalling that Bob's arrived. He's one of those people who was taking driving lessons before he was even sixteen, and was on the roads the very moment it was legal. Now, he's designated driver for the Way brothers, picking them up for school almost every morning.

"Love you, Mom.” Mikey pecks Donna's cheek on his way out, and Gerard grins at her.

“Have a good day, boys. Love you too.”

Bob's waiting outside, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music playing softly over the radio.

“Hey guys,” he says, as Mikey and Gerard climb into the car.

“Afternoon,” the younger brother responds.

Bob doesn't even comment on the deliberate, obvious mistake.

“I fuckin' hate Mondays,” Gerard grumbles as they drive off.

“Tell me about it. Maths, double science, and fucking history all in one fucking day,” the blonde boy driving next to him replies. Bob's just a little taller than Gerard, though is built a lot stockier. He has a lip piercing, and icy blue eyes, and looks a lot more intimidating than he actually is.

“Argh, just kill me now. Please.” Mikey buries his face in his palms. “I swear this is the biggest fucking waste of anyone's life.”

Gerard murmurs his agreement.

The drive to their school is about half an hour from the Way's house – too short in the brothers' opinions.

They arrive amidst the jocks in their stupid four-by-fours; the slutty girls pouting as they bid goodbye to their boyfriends; the fellow outcasts; the scene kids and the hipsters; every cliché was filled by the students, and then some.

Bob parked, and the three of them make their way inside to where they usually meet the small group of people they are friends with. This place is a dark, little alcove that is hidden under the stairs to the library. The thick wall partitioning it off from the rest of the school is surprisingly sound proof and it offers the six boys who hang out there each morning a little privacy.

“Hey Bert,” Gerard says, sliding in and sitting in between his boyfriend's leg where the older boy is perched on the low window sill. It's a west facing pane of glass, so there's little light shining through, especially on a gloomy day like this.

“Hey Babes.” Bert leans down to kiss the top of Gerard's head and then straightens up again to resume his conversation with Quinn. Gerard sighs, but doesn't protest against his boyfriend's sudden lack of interest in him. As sad as it may be, he's used to being over looked in the presence of Quinn.

To look at, they’re an unlikely pair – the dark haired boy has a tendency to look as though he's a hobo with a hangover, day in and day out. Quinn on the other hand, is relatively neat, with white-blonde hair that's a fluffy fuzz atop his head. He has wide, dark brown eyes, and all in all, looks a lot more innocent than he is. Really, it was him that derailed Bert from his straight-edge, Mormon lifestyle, and made him the delinquent he is today. The two are inseparable though, and only ever disagree about one thing; Gerard.

Quinn hates the younger boy. He's not as obvious about it as he once was, but Gerard can tell that the blonde still can't stand him. He knows why as well – ever since he can remember, Quinn's wanted Bert. Wanted him, as in, wanted to date him. Unfortunately, Bert's completely oblivious to this, and sees his best friend as exactly that, and nothing more.

Gerard's still a little paranoid around the older boy though. Admittedly, he doesn't exactly expect Quinn to slit his throat in his sleep, but he's known Bert a lot longer than Gerard has. If he wanted to, it would be no problem whatsoever for Quinn to split the couple up, as close as they may seem.

Bert, being Bert, has no idea how much the two other boys dance around him. He knows they don't get along, but is clueless as to why, and encourages them to be friends. Gerard would be happy to do so, if not for the way the blonde's eyes flashed whenever he and Bert kiss, and the knowledge that he's just waiting on the sidelines for their relationship to fall apart.

“We can do that on Saturday, though, right?” Bert's saying, frowning, as he absentmindedly, ran his hands through Gerard's hair.

“I'm working on Saturday,” Quinn shakes his head, “Besides, the guy said Sunday, we can't fuck this up now.”

“Shit, dude, you know I'm in Church all Sunday.”

“Sneak out,” the blonde shrugs, “we can say we're gonna get ice cream or something and just won't come back. Surely your parents won't kill you for missing one day? You're done with all the serviced by like, five, anyway.”

“What's this?” Gerard cuts in, curious.

“A guy from Hopeless Records wants to hear our band. He's got us a gig Sunday night,” Quinn replies, looking entirely satisfied.

He, Bert, another one of their friends named Jepha who left last year, and Dan, who goes to a different school than the other three, are in a band together. They're pretty good in Gerard's opinion, though he supposes that he'd be shot if he thought anything else. But they are good – especially Bert, who has the most incredible voice; soft and sweet and gorgeous, and not one you'd ever expect looking at him.

“Fucking hell! That's brilliant,” Gerard grins at his boyfriend.

“I know, eh?” For a short moment, the older boy forgets his hatred for the other, and beams. “Only Bert's being a dick and saying he can't make it.”

“Hey, don't be like that,” Bob cuts in, frowning over from where he's talking to Mikey and Billy – another one of their few friends, “It's not some club man, it's his fucking religion.”

“Whatever. Seems like a shit thing to mess up something like this for.”

“Thanks dude,” Bert rolls his eyes, and leans over to head butt the boy next to him.

“Seriously though, I'll talk to your parents or something if you want, explain what's going on,” Quinn offers.

“Dude, you turn up around my house stoned and tell my parents that, they'll lock me up. And let's face it, when are you not stoned?” the dark hair boy snorts.

“Right now?”

“A miracle!” Bert grins. Despite his teasing, he's the one who's always high, even if Quinn does enjoy a good joint. “No, but I'll try and sort something out man, you're right – this is way too good to miss.”

“Fucking sweet!” Quinn smirks.

It's that moment at which the 'bell' goes off. Gerard's unsure as to why they call the piercing siren that goes off is referred to as a bell, but that's what everyone calls it. It sounds like an ambulance though. If one ever called, the students would just think that it was time for the next lesson.

The boys go their separate way, Bob and Gerard heading to their home room together. The class is already half full by this point, but no one who hates them too much is there, so they make it to their seats without having to endure any harassment.

The rest of the kids file in slowly, soon followed by their teacher, a young woman who teaches maths. She announces the various meetings for clubs that would be held this week, then leaves the class to do what they like.

“So, you gonna go to this gig on Sunday?” Gerard asks, twisting in his seat to face Bob.

“Hell yeah. I mean, we can't really not go, but it'll be cool to see them play.”

“It's gonna be awesome!” the dark haired boy grins.

“Oh God. You realise this means that you're going to be a groupie?” Bob chuckles.

“Shut up – you're not a groupie if you're dating the dude before they're famous!”

“Yeah, you are. If you go all crazy around them and want to sleep with them, you're a groupie. You do both of those things anyway, and Bert's in a band, therefore, you're a groupie,” the blonde smirks.

“I am not!” Gerard punches him softly. Well, it was meant to be hard, but the teen has no muscles to speak of, so it doesn't really hurt at all.

“Ow!” Bob pretends anyway, and then mutters, “Groupie.”

“You ass!” The dark haired boy pouts.

“Aw, sorry Gee-Gee!” He smirks, clearly unrepentant.

“I hate you.”

Before Bob can respond, the teacher stands up again and shushes the teens to silence.

“Has anyone seen a boy they don't know today?” she asks, frowning at a piece of paper in front of her in confusion, “There's supposed to be a new student today – Frank? - but he's already fifteen minutes late, so maybe he just hasn't turned up.”

The kids in front of her look around, as though expecting to see the new boy appear magically in their midst.

“Right then,” the woman carries on, “I'm just going to pop down the office and see if he's there. Jamie – don't set anything on fire.” She points to a red haired boy at the back of the class, who'd become infamous for setting one of the science labs alight. The damage hadn't been bad, and it is now a school-wide joke that he's a dangerous arsonist.

The teacher returns after a minute or two. Gerard glances up as the door swings open, and is about to resume his conversation with Bob when a guy walks in behind the woman. And not just any guy – one of the most gorgeous Gerard has seen in... well, ever.

He's short, but looks too old to be in school; probably something to do with the tattoos adorning his exposed forearms and neck. Gerard isn't too certain, but he's sure that the legal age to get ink is eighteen.

The guy – presumably Frank – scans the classroom, giving the student a glimpse of both a nose and lip ring, as the silver flashes in the artificial light. As he turns his head, Gerard also sees that one side of his hair has been cropped short and dyed peroxide blonde. The roots are growing out though and are dark underneath, which really looks better than it would do if the whole area was white. The other side of his head is covered in black hair – too dark to be natural – that flops over the guy's eye and ends just beneath his chin.

Gerard flushes as Frank's eyes land on him, the bright green orbs piercing him. He ducks his head quickly, but not fast enough to miss the small smirk that stretches across the other boy's eyes as their gazes meet.

The teacher introduces the guy and then tells him to settle in.

“Oh and Frank, I advise you not to wear those piercings again. They're not appropriate for school, and if you roll your sleeves down, you can hide the tattoos.”

“Sure thing, Miss,” the new boy grins easily and then makes his way to the back of the classroom to just behind where Bob and Gerard sit.

“Hi,” the blonde boy twists around in his seat to look at the new arrival, “I'm Bob.”

“Hey Bob,” Frank smiles back lazily. “And you are?” he smirks, turning his gaze on Gerard.

Obviously, he knows exactly who the boy is, but he can't exactly give that away.

“Gerard,” the black haired boy replies. He appears fairly confident, but Frank can see the nervousness in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you dude.” The demon leans forward, tearing his gaze away from his newest victim. He can't scare him off now, or he'll never get to know the kid's weaknesses; his hopes and dreams; what he's afraid of; and how all of these thing could contribute to his ticket to Hell. “So,” Frank continues. “What's it like in this dump?”

“It's ok,” Bob shrugs, “Better than the local private school – our friend Ray goes there and he fucking hates it.”

“Fair enough. Is it stuck up or something?”

“Very. It's not too bad here, really. Depends who your friends are, I guess.”

Gerard snorts at that, thinking about his own experiences. No matter who he's been friends are, he's always gotten crap. Mind you, it has been better since he started dating Bert.

“Well, that sucks,” Frank replies, “Do you guys get a lot of shit?”

“Some,” Bob shrugs, “Gerard's worse off than me though.”

“Thanks dude.” Gerard rolls his eyes, then turns back to Frank. “Nah, you'll be fine though. You don't exactly look like you'll take shit, even if they try and give it to you.”

“True,” the new boy shrugs, “What about the classes?”

“What are you in?” Bob questions.

“Err.” Frank digs out his timetable from his bag. “Math. Geography. Music. History. Art.”

“Huh. You'll be in music with me, and then history with both of us. What math class are you in?”

“Miss Young.”

“You're not with either of us then. I think you're with Billy though – he's one of our mates.”

“And I've got art last,” Gerard adds.

“Cool,” Frank nods, as the so called bell goes, “Where's math then?”

“Come with us,” Bob says, standing up.

The three boys make their way out the classroom and through the corridors, Bob and Frank chatting away, whilst Gerard trails along behind them – a thousand miles away in his head.

Despite the fact he's talking to the blonde, most of the demon's attention is on Gerard. He wishes he could get more of a reading on the boy – but there's nothing, not even a whisper of emotions. He can tell that the kid's not... happy. He's not exactly sad either, but Frank's already realised that there's a longing within Gerard; a part of him that wishes things were different. It's just the specifics Frank needs to figure out.


He leaves the other two to go to his own class. It's a bloody waste of time, especially as he has to get his job done within two months, and maths is no good to him whatsoever. He could be fucking Einstein and it would have no impact on his life in the underworld.


After math, geography is just about the most boring thing he's ever sat through. He doesn't understand how he got stuck in this class that's studying fucking rivers. Who cares about how they're formed and why they never go in straight lines? Isn't the fact that they don't enough for people? High school definitely sucks.


After geography, Bob catches him, having just emerged from a different humanities class.

“Hi again,” the blonde greets him.

“Hi,” Frank decides to stick with him – if he's Gerard's friend, the best chance of finding the other teen now is by sticking with this one.

“How was class?”

“Big fucking waste of time,” the demon grumbles, unable to believe that humans deemed this important.

“Tell me about it,” Bob nods in agreement, “Maths I can somewhat understand, I guess, but you just had geography, right? That class is balls.”

“Too true. So, where to now?”

“We're usually behind the hall, so there I guess.”

“Lead the way then!”

Bob leads them through the corridors, towards the main hall, which branches off from the ‘caf’ as the boy calls it. As they walk, Frank finds himself inspecting the kids around him. As would really be expected from any school, there's a huge mix of people – some of whom fit stereotypes so perfectly the demon has to chuckle to himself. Even with the uniform, it's easy to tell

There are the chavs with their facial piercings (Frank scowls at that - how comes he got told to take his rings out, when they're so blatant about it? Ok, he never had any intention of not wearing them, but it's the principle of the matter. Stupid humans.), sports caps, and gum; jocks with their team jackets on, pushing each other around and laughing; scene kids with wild hair, and big eyes; a bunch of guys with dreadlocks who Frank could smell from across the corridor. It's hilarious really. Of course, there are those who don't identify with any of the cliché social groups. Bob and Gerard seem to fit into the last category. They're outcasts.

“Hey!” Bob suddenly exclaims, walking faster and pushing through the bustling students. The demon follows, noting the panic that had flashed across the boy's mind.

He scans the corridor, and spots what caught Bob's attention. A group of guys – jocks from the looks of things – are crowded around a small, stick-thin guy who is standing with his back against the lockers, clutching his books to his chest as though they offer some form of protection. He's staring at the ground, and it takes Frank a few seconds to register that this is Gerard's younger brother. Mikey.

“Guys, cut it out!” The blonde teen pushes through the group and stands next to Mikey. He's at least as big as some of the jocks, but outnumbered.

“What Bryar, come to protect your boyfriend?”

“Shut it, man. Just fuck off.”

Frank watches with vague interest, then glances around the hall. Most of the students are just ignoring the fight brewing in their midst; some are pointing and sniggering, but no one seems to be inclined to help. There aren't any teachers around either, so Frank decides to step in.

“Piss off,” he says, not bothering with niceties.

“Oooh. Newbie!” One of the jocks smirks.

“And a short one at that,” another adds. This doesn't faze Frank. He knows he's short. What they don't know, of course, is that he's a demon. These boys, these children, can't touch him.

“You think you're hard with all those tattoos?”

“Are you mentally impaired? I said, piss off.” As he speaks, Frank gives a little push at one of the boy's minds.

Said boy frowns. “Come on guys. It's not worth it.” And then, he walks off.

The others look confused, but follow anyway – the sheep-like nature of humans kicking in, and making them reluctant to stay.

“Wow,” Bob sounds surprised. “That's not an everyday occurrence.”

“Really?” Frank snorts. “'Cos they seem like a bunch of pussies to me.”

The human looks at him in consideration, but says nothing. An awkward silence settles over them, until Mikey steps forward from where he's hovering by the wall. His face is still set in the same expression – blank, and bleak. “Well, come on then,” he says, and begins to lead the way through the busy corridors.

Frank glances as Bob, but the blonde doesn't seem overly concerned. Maybe this is just how the kid always is.

Together, they go through the canteen and around the back of where a couple of old men are serving food. It stinks in there, and Frank wrinkles his nose at the scent of fried bacon. How it appeals to anyone is beyond him – he fucking hates meat.

It turns out that where they're headed is a small alcove behind the hall. Frank thinks they must be under the small stage there, as there are wires running along the ceiling, and the lighting is awful.

Gerard's back there, as well as four other guys. Three are sitting down, looking up at the other two, who are holding hands. They're laughing about something, and one of the teens – one with white blonde hair – is rolling his eyes.

As the trio draw closer, one of the guys standing up glances around at them. He grins, and tugs on the other boy's hand. He looks round and the shorter of the two leans forward to whisper something, before they walk off, brushing past Frank as they go.

“Hey guys,” one of the remaining boys says.

The demon guesses that this must be Gerard's boyfriend, as he's lying down with his head in the teen's lap.

“Hi,” Bob replies, sitting down in front of them.

“Who this?” The same guy asks, indicating the newcomer.

“Frank. Dude, this is Bert, Quinn and Billy,” the blonde indicates each in turn. Bert's the one with his head in Gerard's lap; Quinn the one with the blonde hair. Billy grins as he's introduced – a short boy with black hair that hangs around his face, and pale skin.

“Hi.” The demon waves, collapsing next to Bob.

Mikey sits down as well, next to Gerard, and leans forward to mutter in his ear. The elder frowns and nods. “Shove off, Bert,” he says, then stands up and follows his brother around the corner.

“What happened there?” Billy asks, craning his neck to try and see the two.

“Mikes nearly got beat up again,” Bob replies.

“Aw shit. Poor dude,” Billy frowns, “Should we talk to Zack and Brian or something?”

“Nah. You know what Mikey's like. He won't appreciate it,” Bob shrugs.

“We don't have to tell him,” Bert chips in, “We talk to Matt and all his lot, and you, me and Jepha – we'll kick the shit out of them!”

“Yeah, if you're sober enough,” the blonde snorts.

“Shadd'up Quinn!” Bert pushes him over.

Frank's not listening to any of this though – he's focused on the conversation the Ways are having. It's not one that'll achieve anything; Mikey's just venting to his older brother.

“I'm sorry. I wish I could do something. I wish I could stop them,” Gerard whispers back.

“You don't have to. It just fucking sucks. Seriously what is their problem – why do they hate me so much?”

“I don't know Mikes. I'm sorry.”

“It's ok. It's not like you don't get shit too.” The kid sniffles – he must be crying. “I just wish they'd stop being such dicks. Lucky that new guy was there though. He scared them right off.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was weird actually – they just backed off.”

“They were scared I guess. They're cowards. I mean, they kick the living shit outta us 'cos they can.” Gerard sounds regretful and bitter.

“At least you've got Bert to look after you.”

“Yeah, fuck knows what I'd do without him.” The teen sounds different now. He's fond, and affectionate. Frank's surprised at the sudden change.

“Well. Guess, I should've taken tae-kwon-something-or-another more seriously,” Mikey replies ruefully.

His brother snorts, “Tae-kwon-do, man.”

“Whatever.”

“Frank! Frank!” The demon shakes his head as Bert snaps his fingers in front of his face. He resists the urge to growl at the teen. “Dude, you were like, totally spaced out just then.”

“Sorry.” Although, he really isn't. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Yeah, Monday's are a bitch.”

“A royal one.”

“So, where 'bouts are you from?”

Frank resists the urge to roll his eyes. Do these humans seriously have nothing better to do than quiz him? He's already got answers prepared, but there are few things more tedious than being quizzed on lies. Apart from maybe geography.

“I'm from New Jersey. Just not this city – a bit further south.”

“Cool. Why'd you move up here?” Bert asks, accepting his vague answer.

“Needed a change of scenery. I don't live with my parents, and I hated my old school, so here I am.”

“How comes you're not with your 'rentals?” The human leans forward when Frank comes out with this, a small spark in his eye.

Frank notes this, and pushes slightly into the boy's mind. There's sadness there, and regret, and hate, and longing, and anger – a lot of emotions that really shouldn't be connected with a person's family.

“We fell out,” the demon shrugs, watching Bert's reaction carefully. It's almost imperceptible, but the kid winces at this statement. “It was pretty bad,” Frank carries on, “But I moved out, got some money, and moved up-state. Not enough to make it to NYC, but that's my aim for later.”

“Huh.” Bert settles back, and Quinn places a hand on his arm softly.

Although Billy and Bob look clueless, apparently there's a lot of... support for the teen in regards to his troubles. Frank wonders how much Gerard knows about them, and if this is yet another thing he could play to his advantage.

As he watches, Bert puts his hand over the blonde boy's and settles back against his body, head resting on his shoulder.

Looks like that way.

Frank smirks. Despite Gerard being unreadable, his friends definitely aren't. There are also about a hundred little dilemmas he can twist here: Mikey's unhappiness; Gerard's affection for his boyfriend; Bert's problems at home and his apparent feelings for Quinn; and the hard-done-by situations they all seem to feel they're in. Even if they're not overwhelmed by their problems just yet, all it needs is a little push, and they'll be falling right over the edge.

Frank's here to provide that push. With his skill at manipulating situations he's going to orchestrate it in a way that makes Gerard's life fall down about his ears. The demon smirks to himself, and returns to the conversation. To anyone concerned, he's nothing more than completely human boy.

Which is exactly what he wants.

He listens in on the conversation for the rest of the short break - occasionally chipping in with an opinion that may not be his, but riles the others up enough to amuse him. Then the piercing siren that they all refers to as a bell goes off and he follows Bob to music.

"This is like, the one good lesson there is." The teen says enthusiastically as they walk. "The teacher's a complete metal head – though you wouldn't tell by looking. But the moment you mention Pantera, she just lets you do whatever the fuck you want."

"Sounds good." Frank grins back. "You play anything?"

"Yeah, drums and a bit of piano from when I was a kid. That's basically nothing, though. You?"

"A few things." The demon shrugs back. Music's one of his few indulgences, and in truth, it it's the main factor that makes him so desperate to stay on Earth. There's nothing like it down in Hell – wild and beautiful and so full of life. Not in the land of death and misery. So Frank has picked up a few instruments in the decades he's been on Earth. Guitar's by far his favourite though.

"You into metal though?" Bob carried on his quizzing.

"'Course," Frank obliges, though he finds the questioning very tedious, whether he loves music or not. They talk about various bands they like, and those they'd like to see until the teacher arrives.

True the the blond's promise, she smiles benignly at him, and nods. Bob takes this as his cue to leave. Before he exists the classroom though, he turns and addresses the woman. "Miss, Frank's new here, can I show him around?"

The woman studies Frank for a moment, then gives her permissions.

"Thanks, dude," the demon grins as he follows Bob out.

"No problem. I usually just go to the drum rooms for this period, but I can show you the other instruments, if you want?"

"I'm fine thanks." Frank shrugs. In truth, he's sorely tempted, but he's here to work, not have fun. After he's completed this job, he will have all the time he wants to play with these beauties, and create his own crashing, violent melodies.

"Ok then," Bob shrugs and they go into the drum room, as suggested. The blonde picks up a pair of sticks, and begins beating out a smile rhythm.

Frank figures this is as good a time as any to start questioning him. "So what happened with the kid earlier?"

"Mikey? They're just dicks, you know. He's small and different, and they pick on him because of it."

"Does that happen often, then?

"Yeah," Bob sighs. "It's gotten pretty violent a few times too and Mikes is too small to put up a fight. Sometimes we'll talk to Zack and Brian – they're the two who left just as we arrived – and they'll step in with Jacoby, and their mates. And the lot of them are huge. It's not fair to keep on getting them involved, though. They get shit too, but it's not really their problem, you know?"

"They a couple?"

"Uhuh. But they just beat up anyone who's a dick about it."

Frank snorts. "Sounds like you should take a leaf outta their book."

"Have you seen the lot of us?" Bob laughs derisively at that. "They're all a bunch of twigs, and those assholes travel in packs." He shakes his head, frowning in annoyance. "I just wish they'd leave the Ways alone, and Billy. They're always getting the most crap and they're the ones who deal with it all the worst. I don't really give a damn what they say to me, and Quinn's the same. Bert's always too baked to care."

Frank laughs at that. "He does seem a bit crazy."

"You're telling me. I've known the dude for like three years now? Today was sane for him and Quinn comparatively."

"Great, I'll stay away from them two then."

Bob sniggers. "No, they're fine really. They just take a bit of getting used to. It's when you get their entire band together that everyone goes completely crazy. That's scary."

Once again, Frank laughs. He's wondering how much to push for right now – he knows Bob won't give up all of his friends secrets right now, even with a bit of pushing. The teen's relatively strong willed. No, better, to bide his time for now.

"Are Quinn and Bert dating?" But may as well get the boy's opinion on that matter, before it becomes obvious that isn't the case.

The steady beat that Bob's been keeping up throughout the conversation falters for a second, before picking back up again. Frank notices the small slip though.

"No, Gerard's with Bert, actually." The blond says slowly.

"Oh? It didn't seem that way earlier." Frank pushes a little more.

"I s'pose not. But no, Quinn's just a good mate of his, eh? They've known each other for years, and they're both pretty handsy guys, so it does seem that way sometimes."

"Well, my bad then."

Bob smiles kindly and shrugs. "Nah, I get why you thought that. Just don't mention it to Gerard, ok? He's kinda paranoid about the whole thing."

"Don't worry, I won't." Frank nods in return. "No point in upsetting him."

"Thanks, man." Bob says.

With that, Frank turns the conversation topic on to lighter subjects. He's got enough information out of the blond for now.

As of yet, his endeavour's a success. It's still in its youth perhaps, but scarcely a day into his allotted two months, and the demon already knows his first striking point.