I climbed off of him and he stood up, getting dressed. "Stay there." He said firmly, pointing at me. "Don't make a sound. I'll try and get rid of him."
I nodded, and he left the room, closing the door slowly behind him. I ran a hand through my hair, crossing my legs and looking around the room. The walls were black, the sheets were the same deep red as the carpet in the front room, and there was a desk in one corner with a closet in the other. There were two nightstands, one either side of his bed, both white with black knobs. I had the sudden urge to look in them, to see what kind of weird stuff was there, but I didn't. It would be an invasion of privacy. Although the top draw was opened slightly, so I leaned over and peered into it, being a nosy twat.
How many condoms does one guy need?
I let myself grin. At least we wouldn't run out if anything were to happen, I suppose. Ooh, that's an appealing thought. Whoops.
I jumped when I heard the sound of raised voices, pushing the drawer closed again and standing up. I tiptoed over to the door, opening it the tiniest bit. It was a good job I did, because I heard the sound of a slap, followed by a few seconds of silence.
"Get out." Gerard's low voice said.
The front door slammed, and I hurried downstairs, needing to see if Gerard was okay. He was stood in the kitchen, his back to me, his palms on the kitchen counter.
"Gee? Are you okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine." He spat.
"I - I heard someone being slapped - who was -"
"It was me. And I think you should go."
"But -"
He whirled around, and there was a large, red slap mark on his face. "Why the hell do you care? You're just a kid! You shouldn't even be here! Go and whore yourself out to someone else, because it's all you seem to be good for!"
I scowled. "Fine. But don't come to me when you want to get laid. Find some other student to suck your dick."
I picked up my bag and left the house, slamming the door as hard as I could behind me. I fought back tears, knowing that crying would just make me feel weak. It would make me feel even worse than I already did. He said the one thing that I'd been thinking to myself for weeks. Months. No, years. He practically called me a whore, and for him to say that meant that there had to be some degree of truth to it. I had to be the worst whore ever, because I was a virgin, but sex doesn't constitute to being a whore, does it?
Whatever. I was still a whore. Everyone thought so.
~
It was eating me up inside. Whenever a degrading thought about myself manifests itself in my head, it stays there and it does not - go - away. I spent the following day in a fuzz of self-pity, not really talking to anyone, and I think the guys I hung around with could tell because Brendon took me aside after school.
"Are you okay?" He asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Only...you've said nothing today, and I'm getting kinda worried."
I shrugged. "I'm okay. It's nothing to worry about."
"Do you want me to come over?"
"If you want, I'm not bothered."
He linked his arm with me and we walked towards the gates, passing Gerard on the way. I blanked him completely, my head held high, even though I wanted nothing more than to either punch him, cry on him or make out with him. It was a very confusing situation to be in. It also kinda hurt knowing that his boyfriend had slapped him, but it was his business. After all, I was just a kid.
Brendon and I walked to my house, meaning that I skipped my cemetery session. It only meant that I'd have to stay twice as long tomorrow, but I didn't care. Nobody was in when we got there, thankfully, so I raided the fridge and cupboards for soda and snacks, and then led him up to my room.
"So," he said, sitting on my bed and crossing his long legs. "what's up?"
I sat on the edge of my bed, twisting my fingers together. "I think I'm a whore."
There was a minute of silence before he spoke. "You're not a whore. Are you a virgin?" I nodded. "You're not a whore. Even if you were, you'd be a saint compared to Pete." I chuckled, knowing that the last comment was probably true. "Why do you think you're a whore?"
I hesitated. "There's this guy...and...we've made out a few times, and - and I've sucked him off twice."
His eyebrows shot up, and he shuffled closer to me. "Who is he?" I licked my lower lip. "C'mon, Frank. You can tell me."
"I can't. I really can't." His eyebrows rose a little higher, and I swallowed. I needed to tell someone, otherwise I was going to go insane. "You have to promise not to tell anybody. Not Ray, or Patrick, or Pete. Not even Ryan. I shouldn't even be telling you. So you cannot say a word. Don't ever bring this up when people are around. Got it?"
He nodded. "I promise."
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. And then I said, barely audibly, "Mr Way."
"Our art teacher?" He gasped, and I nodded, my hands clenching into fists. "No way, what? How in the hell did you manage that?"
I looked at him, shrugging. "Believe me, if I knew, I wouldn't be here."
"So why do you think you're a whore?"
I blinked. "I told you I sucked off our art teacher twice and all you can ask about is me being a whore?"
He shrugged. "It's no big deal. I'm not freaked out by it or anything. Suck off whoever you want man, it's not my business. I mean, if I wasn't with Ryan and I got the opportunity, I so would."
I nudged him. "You're so bad!"
"I know, baby. Now c'mon," he sat next to me, his legs still crossed. "Tell me everything."
So I told him everything that had happened between Gerard and I, from the flirting to the art storage closet to the drunken phone call where I told him I wanted to fuck him. He listened, he didn't judge, and when I'd finished, he didn't speak for a few minutes.
"How do you feel about him?" He asked, and I frowned.
"What do you mean?" He gave me a look that told me that I knew full well what he meant, and I shook my head. "No, no I don't like him like that - God, Brendon, that's just - that's just -"
"Love is love, Frank." He grinned, ruffling my hair.
I slapped his hand away. "Shut up, I am not, not will I ever be, in love with him. I just have the urge to do the filthiest things to him."
"So you're not crushing on him?"
I scoffed. "No chance."
"Waaaaaait, back up - you wanna do the filthiest things to him? I dread to think what your Internet history is like."
"Oh, shut up." I gave him a shove. "I'll have you know that I don't watch porn."
His eyebrows rose. "Really? You've gotta be the only teenage boy I know who doesn't."
I grimaced. "Can we not have this conversation?"
"Okay, okay, back to tying up our art teacher."
"Or that one."
"Dammit. I was counting on you telling me what you'd do." I glared at him. "Okay! Are you feeling any better?"
I shrugged. "I suppose. Don't know what I'm gonna do tomorrow, but..."
He smirked. "I have a plan."
~
I walked into art the following day with Brendon, avoiding Gerard completely. Due to Patrick being absent today, Brendon sat beside me. He'd refused to tell me what his 'plan' was, but I was about to find out.
Gerard took the register, stopping at Brendon's response that he was here. He looked up, saw that Brendon was sat beside me, and frowned.
"I thought you sat on the back row, Brendon?" He asked.
"I do, Sir, I'm keeping Frank company. Is that a problem?"
He paused. "No. Not at all."
We were told to continue with our projects, so as Brendon stood up to get supplies, I asked him to get me some white paint. He went to the cupboard under the sink, where the paint was, shooting me a wink.
He tossed me the can of paint, calling, "Catch!" I caught it with both hands, raising my eyebrows at his apparent desire to get paint all over my school uniform. "Good job, Frank." He glanced at Gerard briefly, knowing that he would be listening, and then he said loudly, "It would've been awkward if you'd gotten it all over your face. That stuff is hard to get off."
The way he emphasised certain words made his plan clear: he was going to make comments about what had happened between Gerard and I without explicitly saying so.
I was going to kill him.
Gerard scowled as Brendon grinned, coming to sit beside me. He pulled his sketchbook from his bag and opened it up to reveal an amazing half-finished portrait of Ryan. I gaped at it, envying his ability to paint.
"Oh my God that's amazing!" I gasped.
"Really?" He blushed.
"Of course! It's fantastic! You must really love him."
He smirked. "That's deep. If you carry on, Frank, you're gonna want a facial."
I turned so that my back was to Gerard, and hissed, "Stop it! He'll know I've told you!"
He grinned. "That's my intention."
"No, because then he'll be so pissed at me!"
He just shrugged, continuing to paint. He got up about twenty minutes later and went to the sink, presumably washing his hands. I needed a different color paint and a new brush, so I stood up. Unfortunately, I had to pass Brendon, and who tripped me up as I walked by and consequently made me spill white paint on Gerard, who was walking towards me at the time.
My eyes widened and I tried not to laugh, and Brendon snorted laugher as Gerard glared daggers at me. "Oops, sorry sir..." I said, biting my lower lip.
And then Brendon spoke. "I guess you'll have to change, Sir. I mean, people might get suspicious if you walk around with mysterious white stains on your stomach."
Gerard's jaw clenched, and he looked furious. "If you think it's so amusing, Frank, you won't mind staying after school, will you?"
I looked at him in disgust. "Actually, I do mind - I have better things to do than stay here for longer than I have to even though I've done nothing wrong."
His perfect eyebrows rose. "You've got detention, no arguing. Now get back to work and stop messing around."
"I was getting some paint. Am I not allowed to get paint now?" I brushed past him and went to the paint cupboard, grumbling under my breath at how much of an asshole he was.
I returned to my seat, pissed off and frustrated. I did not want to have to come back here and spend more time around the bastard that thought I was just a kid, thought I was a whore, the bastard that just decided that he was done with me. Well screw him. He could think again if I was going to be his little...his little plaything.
Brendon kept me entertained for the last part of the lesson, making jokes and painting the tip of my nose purple. I tried to scrub the paint off before my detention, but I didn't know if it was all off or not. I didn't particularly care, either. It was just detention.
I slumped into a seat at the back of the room, ignoring Gerard's irritable sigh at the front.
"Come and sit here." He said, and I just stared at him blankly, as if he was nothing but a pot plant. "Please?"
He had this weird expression on his face, borderline freaking puppy dog eyes, and I let out a noise of frustration. I got to my feet, dragging myself over to the front of the classroom and sitting behind the first desk in the row.
There were a few minutes of silence, where he just looked at me with those eyes, those fucking eyes, those hazel-green eyes that were just so - ugh, Frank, shut the hell up. I let my head drop to the table, letting out a sigh. I'd done nothing wrong, yet I was being made to stay behind like some disrespectful little shit. It wasn't fair. I just wanted to go to the cemetery and smoke and cry and let these stupid walls come down for once, because the cemetery is the only place where I don't have to try, I don't have to act, and I certainly don't have to keep it together.
"What's wrong, Frank?" He asked, his tone soft and caring.
My head snapped up. "Why do you care?"
"Of course I care, you're one of my students -"
"No, I'm just a whorish kid. You don't need to care about me."
He looked hurt. "Frank, I didn't mean -"
"Yeah, whatever."
I put my head on my arms again, closing my eyes. I was sick of pretending, sick of lying to myself, sick of things being the way they were. But it didn't matter. Nobody had to know. As they say: conceal, don't feel. Don't let them know.
I even felt sick, even though I'd barely eaten all day. In fact, I didn't think I'd eaten at all, but my stomach had gotten too used to the feeling to keep growling. The hunger pangs were long gone, and I didn't even feel hungry anymore. Maybe I felt sick because I hadn't eaten.
"Frank, something's wrong." I heard a chair move and then he was sat in front of the desk. "What's up?" I just shrugged. "C'mon, I'm your teacher -"
"I've seen your dick." I muttered. "That is not normal teacher-student behavior."
He paused. "Let's just forget about it for now."
I slowly raised my head. "Nuh-uh. That is not how it works. We are not just going to let this fade into nothing like it never happened -"
He placed a finger against my lips. "Sh. Come over after your detention and we can talk about it."
I sighed. "Fine. Whatever."
"Good." He ran a hand through my hair, and he leaned into kiss me.
And that was when the door opened.
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Okay so the previous chapter got set to private, but I think it's fixed now (I hope)!! Whoops, me and my cliffhangers again;) thanks to @wild_imaginayshun for the help with this chapter, too!:3
Right. I've been reading way too much weird and kinky smut today, and that, combined with the amount of tweets I've seen tonight discussing whether Frank or Gerard tops (without a conclusion, it seems, though most lean towards it being Frank (which is understandable (still, ???))) has made me want to ask you guys a question. What do you think? Frank or Gerard? I'm genuinely curious because (and I'm sorry about this) when I first got into this whole Frerard thing I thought it would be Gerard, not gonna lie, but now it's emerged to me (or it had a short while back, anyway) that it's more likely to be Frank. So yeah, tell me what you think, who you think, that kind of thing! Feel free to flood the comments section if you want, I'm genuinely curious:3
So long and goodnight,
-xocharr <3 ;;