Lie To Me (Frerard)

14: Frank Gets A 'D' in Art

It was just fucking perfect: flying and heartbeats and fireworks and everything anyone could ever dream of, outside of school and inside of Gerard's head that was.

Frank was so much more of an asshole when he came to remember that he had some shitty reputation to keep up, and when, well really, he got bored of making sure that Gerard was alright, and when he decided that a heartfelt, destructive confession like that was just enough chaos for that day.

Because, although it may have been 'I love you's and almost kissing before, but today, the world's worst Monday, they found themselves back on square one: Frank with everything and Gerard with nothing - head spinning as he came to realise that placing his affections in Gabe Saporta would have been a better idea.

Fucking Gabe Saporta.

Exactly, fucking Gabe Saporta would have been a better idea than even speaking to Frank Iero but it seemed as if the only fucking lesson Gerard had on his timetable was that shitty ass art lesson in which he just magically had to be sat beside Frank Iero, who just had to be late and arrive at exactly the same time as Gerard did.

Of course, ensuring another awkward moment, and kick-starting the sinking feeling deep in Gerard's stomach.

"Sorry." Frank muttered - head down: it meant nothing and Gerard could assume the same for just about everything else the sixteen year old had ever said to him. Frank Iero was a fucking asshole, and perhaps it was just better for him to accept that later rather than never.

"About what? The fact that you're being the world's biggest asshole?" Gerard snapped: voice hushed and words in contrast to Frank's - far from meaningless. This was everything and Gerard didn't want it to be: it was nothing short of a vicious cycle and Gerard hated to admit that he was trapped.

"No, because I bumped into you." Frank fucking smirked at him, before pushing past and into the art room, leaving the seventeen year old stood there for entirely far too long as he struggled to process just what had just happened, and how he'd hated Frank Iero for it, and how, he just didn't.

And in consequence, how that wasn't nearly as much of a problem as it should have been.

Gerard was screwed to say the least: he was falling in love and it was killing him, and really he was at the point where he would have preferred such a statement to be literal rather than metaphorical, because stabbing a knife through his own chest would have been more fun than going in and sitting beside Frank Iero for the next two hours.

But Gerard was a fucking coward and he couldn't stand to ditch school again, because well, his mum wasn't exactly his biggest fan right now, and yeah, Gerard was just fucking scared, and perhaps making eye contact with that French teacher who hated him: the one with the seventy inch high heels and coat of what he couldn't help suspect was real animal fur, perhaps even making eye contact with the bitch was worse than going inside the art room.

And he hated her, because momentarily, her presence had made him forget about Frank Iero and that stupid fucking 'I hate you, fuck the world and your sanity' glare he got as he walked in, of course coupled with a smirk that just about messed him up completely.

"Late, are we, Gerard?" The teacher raised one eyebrow in Gerard's direction as he reluctantly sat down beside Frank. "Stay after school please." Gerard was utterly screwed, and Frank only fucking laughed and of course, there wasn't a chance in hell that the teacher would notice that.

And from then on, it was sketching and silence: at least between the two of them - the room was busy and everyone else was captured in their own stupid conversations and there was probably some unfortunate fuckboy at the other end of the room flicking white paint onto his jeans, only to be teased about it for the rest of time.