ANON (Frerard)

1. Pete's Power of Persuasion

Click,click, click

The sound of keyboards were overwhelmingly loud in the small classroom. The English teacher had sat in his black, wheeling, chair observing his students as they worked. With a scratch to his greying-haired head, and a sip of his black coffee, he watched in amusement. Down the rows, a picture of how technology had taken over, was right in front of him, so close he could touch it, but he didn't, in fear of disturbing the otherwise silence, aside from the clickety-clacks of keys.

Mr. Armstrong's assignment for the class was to write about what they did over the summer. But with the school's new technology friendly curriculum, the old papers and pencils were switched out for shiny laptops and tablets. All except one student. A certain black-haired individual, who was instead writing in a black notebook. That certain ripped-jeans, pierced lipped, kid suddenly dropped his pencil and looked up. Mr. Armstrong looked away in tries of making it seem like he wasn't staring at him. The student ripped the page out, scribbled one last word, then pushed his chair out and walked to the teacher's front desk. Mr. Armstrong kindly took it, giving it a once over, pleaded with the result. He smiled at the boy standing in front of him.

"Well done, Frank. I'm looking forward to reading it," he nodded to the student, making the short boy smile and hurry back to his seat, in which he continued to write things in his black book.

Frank liked to write stories. Stories he'd definitely never share with anyone, not even his best friend Gerard. He was afraid of rejection. Frank liked his stories and that's all he needed, he didn't want other people to taint his opinion on them. So he kept his black notebook tucked in his bag and brought it everywhere he went. Sometimes he would tell Gerard about little bits like ideas and characters, then Gerard would sketch the people he created based on what little information he heard from his friend.

When the bell rang, signifying the end of class, Frank waited a few seconds to avoid the huge crowd at the door. The total ass sitting beside him knocked Frank's book over as he was standing up (because standing up totally requires you to flail your arms about). The kid giggled and walked away, his crooked teeth revealing in his slimy grin. Frank cursed under his breath, quickly retrieving his book and then exiting the class. He dug in his pocket for a piece of gum, but instead found a folded piece of paper. Unfurling the ball, it revealed a quick sketch that Gerard had done of the two eating peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Call it old school, but Frank was a sucker for a good ol' PB and J. He smiled at the paper, making a note that he definitely had to pin it up in his locker. Just as he looked up again, he spotted said little artist boy waiting for him at the location . Frank waved and sped up his pace.

"Hey," Frank punched in his locker combo and grabbed a thumbtack from the small container in the back.

"Hello," Gerard responded.

Frank found space and pinned up the drawing. "Thought I'd add another one."

"Surprising," Gerard furrowed his eyebrows together.

"What's surprising, how I managed to find a spot in this clutterfuck of a locker," Frank guessed.

"Yes, I find that surprising. But what makes you like my drawings so much?" Gerard queries, poking at one of the first drawings he made for Frank (it was of a banana shredding on guitar. "It reminded me of you," Gerard hid behind his hands. "I get it, because I play guitar, and I'm a huge dick," Frank had laughed. Gerard had immediately dismissed Frank being a dick but the laughing boy wouldn't hear it.)

"'Cause you're seriously talented and you draw the most bizarre yet awesome things. I mean I wish I wasn't such a shitty drawer, man I'd be drawing all the time!" Frank grabbed a small bag and then closed his locker, walking to the doors leading outside, Gerard following behind.