Keeping on top of school work, his job and his nagging parents, Frank's already small social life had begun to disintegrate. Although they had art, music and English together, he hadn't been able to talk to Brendon since their brief video chat.
Without Brendon there, Frank couldn't exactly say he even had a social life, which did not go down well with his parents, especially his mother because, for some reason, she wanted to be as invested in his life as he was. She'd complained when he told her he hadn't socialised with another human being in over a week –unless his art teacher counted. But he wasn't about to explain to his mother the weird friendship he and Gerard were currently holding.
Unfortunately, it was school again but this had been the first time Frank had been excited to go in on a Monday –only because he knew he was with Brendon in English and they'd have a chance to talk.
Sure enough, as the bell went, Brendon hurried in to the English room, careful to dodge stray chairs as he weaved his way over to Frank, who smiled.
"Hey."
"Hey, princess." Brendon sighed as he slumped beside him, dumping his bag on the table with a dull thud.
Furrowing his brows, Frank noticed the weariness etched in to his features and his smile faded. "What happened? How did your date go?"
He shook his head. "Does it count as a date if there's a strange third wheel?"
"Dallon really did go?"
"Yup." He popped the 'p'. "And he wasn't the third wheel. I felt like those two were on a date while I sat there and watched my relationship with Ryan wash away."
"Really?" Frank scowled. "Dallon has the nerve to do that to both of you? If I had any confidence or strength, I'd kick his ass for you."
Although Brendon had been pretty much MIA, he was still his best friend and Frank hated to see him like this. Usually Brendon was so bubbly. Though with Dallon breathing down his neck –and now Ryan's- Brendon was mostly in a constant state of worry, concentrating on making sure Ryan didn't find out it was Dallon who had kissed him.
Now that they were 'friends', Brendon was terrified that Dallon would feed Ryan lies, obscuring the truth to turn his boyfriend against him.
"Thanks." Brendon smiled weakly, keeping his gaze fixed on his shoes. He leaned sideways and Frank enveloped him in a hug, running his fingers through Brendon's mop of brown hair.
Everyone else piled in to the classroom, including Mrs Wells, who seemed worn out from struggling through the crowded halls.
"What are you going to do?" Frank muttered quietly. "Do you want to talk about it after school?"
"I can't." Brendon mumbled, pulling away and sitting up straight. The lesson was about to start. "I'm meeting Ryan at his place."
"That's-"
He cut him off with a bitter tone, "And I swear to God if Dallon is gonna be there, I'm gonna cry."
Frank frowned. He felt bad for him and he wanted to comfort him, he did. But he had no idea how to show that on the outside. "I think you should tell Ryan who it was you kissed, and who initiated it first."
"Really?" He looked up at him with wide eyes, and a surprised expression.
"That way Dallon can't get to him first and you'll be telling the truth. He'll trust you a lot more than if he heard it from someone else." He paused as Mrs Wells called his name out on the register, replied "here!" then turned back to Brendon. "Plus, Dallon won't have anything held against you."
"True. . . It won't be an easy conversation."
"No. . ." Frank smiled comfortingly. "But it'll be worth it."
-
Luckily, throughout the lesson, Brendon had gradually cheered up. He had gone over what he would say to Ryan a thousand times, and each time Frank had listened, (they barely got any actual work done), so by the end, he was more confident in himself.
The bell rang for PE, causing Brendon and Frank to groan like it was the end of the world. At least, that was until Frank remembered he now got to spend this whole lesson with none other than his cool art teacher.
"Hey," Brendon nudged his shoulder with a confused look. "What are you grinning about?"
Instantly, Frank stopped, chewing on his lip. "Nothing." He slung his bag over his shoulder and snatched Brendon's up too, whilst Brendon piled their books with everyone else's. "I don't have to do PE anymore, that's all."
"Excuse me, what?" Brendon scowled playfully as he took his bag. "I can't believe you're ditching me. And in my time of need." He added, frowning.
They exited after everyone else, hovering by the top of the stairs as PE was down, art was up, and they weren't finished chatting yet.
"You'll live." Frank sighed, although he did feel a pang of guilt. "How about I ask if you can quit PE, too? I'm sure Ge-Mr Way will allow it."
He brushed over Frank's slip-up. "It's not just up to him, though, is it? Mr Wright is the head of art." Brendon whined, rolling his head back on his shoulders, glaring at the ceiling. "How do you know Mr Way would say yes, anyway?"
Frank replied with a slight smirk. "I'm obviously his favourite student."
"'Course you are." He snorted, patting Frank on the shoulder. "I'll see you later." He gave him one last smile before descending the stairs to hell.
-
As usual, Frank crept in to the art department, poking his head around the corner to search for Gerard. Closed blinds, paired with the dark sky, made the room quite dark. And because Mr Wright didn't have a class next door, Gerard clearly hadn't bothered to switch the lights on.
In case there was anyone in either of the classrooms that he couldn't see, he called out, "Mr Way?"
From the back of the classroom in the corner, a voice sounded. "Who is it?"
However, Frank squinted as he still couldn't see anyone. "Frank." He said, puzzled, walking further in to 169a. "Iero."
"Hey, Frank." Then he saw it. A mop of black and teal roots emerging from behind one of the tables, followed by hazel orbs and a pixie nose. Of course, Gerard was sat on the floor.
"What're you doing down there?"
"Sorting out these." He held up a handful of art text books. He furrowed his brows. "What are you dong up here?"
"Uhm." Frank fidgeted nervously, scared he'd gotten things mixed up or wrong. "You arranged for me to work up here this lesson instead of going to PE?"
"Oh," Gerard shuffled on his knees, placing the books on the table. "I forgot. I'm so sorry." A genuine expression of guilt washed over his features.
"No, it's okay." Frank waved a hand dismissively.
Hurriedly, Gerard slid the books on to the bottom shelf, then stood up to face him. His denim jacket was rolled up to his elbows (showing off the veins in his arms that stood out under his skin). He wore a black shirt (a change from white), a red tie, and skinny jeans with a partly studded belt, which seemed well-worn and years old.
Suddenly, Frank felt considerably more self-conscious and unattractive in his boring hoodie, band t-shirt, baggy jeans and scuffed up trainers –he had no doubt his hair was sticking up everywhere too. Another thought hit him: I should not be thinking about wanting to look attractive just for my art teacher.
A heat rose to his pale cheeks and he glanced away.
"I'm sorry." Gerard spoke again, walking over to where the art folders were stored.
By nature, Frank had wandering eyes and a curious mind. So when he noticed a purple and blue bruise just above Gerard's hip as his shirt moved when he stretched up, he grew concerned. Over the weeks that he'd known Gerard, there had always been some sort of bruise or mark painting his skin. At first, he'd brushed it off, but now he was concerned.
"Are you okay?" Frank asked softly, hoping he wasn't going to cross any boundaries or seem nosey.
"Of course." Gerard dug out Frank's folder, putting it at a table for him. "I look tired don't I?" He chuckled. "I've had a hectic photography class, that's all."
Sighing, Frank scratched at the zip on his hoodie just so he had something to do. "No. . . Like. . ." he had no idea how to phrase it. "Outside of. . . School."
"What do you mean?" A scared expression flashed on his face, though he quickly covered it with anger, eyes staring intently at Frank, like an interrogation light.
"Is everything okay with you?" Frank gulped audibly. "You-you know, at home?"
Taken aback, Gerard folded his arms across his chest. "I'm really sure that's none of your business." He scowled before walking to his desk. He refocused his attention to the computer screen, trying his best to not feel like a horrible human being for ignoring his student.
A few minutes passed and Frank remained there in silence, frequently glancing at Gerard, who's cold demeanour slowly softened. He didn't dare make a noise as he trudged to his art folder, quietly slipping his bag off his shoulders.
They continued to work together in utter silence. The only static noise being Gerard's typing and Frank's pencil scraping at the paper.
Eventually, with a long sigh, Gerard ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."
Frank's head snapped up and he shot him a confused look. It was he who felt like he should have apologised, but hadn't had the courage to speak.
A slight smile tugging at his lips, Gerard rummaged in his desk drawer to bring out a packet of biscuits, holding them out as a peace offering. "Will you forgive me?"
Deciding to go with the playful option, he tried to keep a grin from showing. "Hm." Frank raised his eyebrows, tapping his chin as if it was the hardest decision in the world.
Pressing his lips in a thin line, Gerard cocked his head to the side. He knew he was messing around.
"I don't know."
"Really?" He shrugged. "I guess I better put these away then?"
"No." Frank whined, strolling over and taking two. The chocolate coating the biscuit instantly began to melt in his warm fingers. "I forgive you."
Gerard smiled.
"But," Frank fixed his eyes on the floor, shuffling on the spot. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to upset you. . . Will you forgive me?"
Gerard smiled again, however, this was a smile that reached his eyes and made them seem like they were made of golden glitter. "Of course."
[Published 27 August 2019]
[Last edited 28 December 2019]