We Can Always Find Hope

Tongue-Tied and Oh So Squeamish

**Back to Gerard's POV**

As soon as Gerard and Brendon finished cleaning up in the bathroom, Gerard still tingly and nervous from that encounter with Frank, they decided it wouldn't be best to go to gym, nor science, since they were already fifteen minutes late. Besides, gym wasnt that important...right? They decide to head out to the front of the school and on the bench under the tall oak tree, the golden leaves falling from its branches, landing on top of the dying grass.

"Brendon, I'm-"

"Gerard," Brendon said sternly. Gerard knew he should stop apologizing, but he couldn't help it. "Stop it. I said it was okay. I'm not mad. Okay?"

Gerard sighed. "Okay."

The corner of Brendon's lips turned up in a smile. "I'm gonna ask this again, since I don't believe your response from before. What did the rebellious Frank Iero talk to you about? I saw him. He seemed depressed, or worried. I saw it in his eyes."

Gerard sighed. "I've never told this to anyone else except Frank, not even Mikey knows, nor my mother. No. One." He looked at Brendon, plead in his eyes.

Brendon sighed. "Oh. I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me."

Gerard closed his eyes, his breath a bit shallow. "I can't. I'm sorry."

They sat in awkward silence, making small chit chat from time to time for the following hour and fifteen minutes before sixth and seventh period ended. Next was creative writing, and Gerard was sure he would excel in that class.

He sat at the back of the class, watching as everyone he had met at lunch plopped down in random seats. Patrick sat next to him, throwing him a toothy grin. Gerard waited for Frank to walk in, but alas the bell rang and Gerard lost hope. As the professor walked in, a pretty young guy with side-swept hair, a black tee with a white circle, and jeans, Frank ran in, his face white, turning pink as he realized he was late. God damn it, Gerard felt himself grow tense.

Stop it, Gerard! This is someone you barely know!

Well, I know probably more than anyone else does...

Who gives a shit?!

Gerard sighed and shook his head. He watched as Frank sat in the only empty seat in the room, which so happened to be in front of Gerard.

"Alright, so my name is Mr. Howell and I'll be your creative writing teacher for this year."

British accent. Nice.

"I don't want to put too much pressure on you yet, so for the next twenty minutes or so, I want you all to create a poem with a meaning. No, not the meaning of the new slut you want to hook up with or the jock you want to grind on." A few laughs popped here and there throughout the room. "I mean something close and personal to your heart. Something you could potentially die without. Something that explains your love of something. Something that describes you. You have twenty minutes." Mr. Howell grinned. "Begin."

Gerard picked up his pencil, thinking. A light bulb lit up in his head and he began scribbling down, caring less about his handwriting, stopping every few seconds to reedit his work. Mr. Howell came strolling over to him, picked up the paper, and read it, once Gerard finished. His eyebrows raised as he nodded his head.

"This is true meaning, you know, Mr. Way." He commented and grinned.

He turned to face the class. "Listen up. Mr. Way will read his poem to the class. Listen for the meaning of it and how much feeling is in it."

Fuck. My. Life. Just fuck it. Why the fuck did I sign up for this shit? GAH!

Gerard turned red as he heard a few of the jocks snicker. He stood, looking down at Frank, who had turned around, grinning. God, he wanted to kiss that grin off of him. He cleared his thoughts of all the dirty daydreams and looked down at his poem as he began to read.

"Now I know

That I can't make you stay

But where's your heart

But where's your heart

But where's your

And I know

There's nothing I can say

To change that part

To change that part

To change

So many

Bright lights, they cast a shadow

But can I speak?

Well is it hard understanding

I'm incomplete

A life that's so demanding

I get so weak

A love that's so demanding

I can't speak

I am not afraid to keep on living

I am not afraid to walk this world alone

Honey you can stay, I'll be forgiven

Nothing you can say can stop me going home."

Gerard quickly plopped back down in his seat, trying to hide his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Oh, don't be shy. That was fantastic!" Mr. Howell grinned. "Now, the period ends in about three minutes, so I suggest you all pack your things and hang around until the bell." He walked over to his desk and sat down.

Frank turned around in his chair and faced Gerard, who had given up on trying to hide his face.

"You know, that was really beautiful. I think we can do something with that..." He said. "You think you can come over today?" He asked.

Gerard swallowed. "Umm, sure?" His voice squeaked. "I mean, sure." He repeated with more confidence.

Frank chuckled at his shyness as the bell rung. The two stood. "C'mon," Frank gestured towards the door as the two walked out of class.

A/N: In case you didn't notice, which you probably didn't since I'm so bad at this, I made Dan Howell the creative writing teacher. I GOT STUMPED (pun unintended) SO I LOOKED AROUND AND SAW MY POSTER OF DAN SO I WAS LIKE WHY THE FUCK NOT. I've been getting more depressed lately, but I'm working on it. Next update should be either today or tomorrow so stay tuned. I wanna thank my friend, as mentioned in the previous chapter, for standing by me and helping me and fangirling with me ^.^
To my friend: Dat jawline doe ;)