Since When Did You Become a Romantic?

Chapter 1: Mr. Lero

Chapter 1: Mr. Lero

Millard Fillmore's High School has always held a special place in Mr. Way's heart. Whether it was the worn out floors or busted windows. The dented lockers or dusty library. He loves it regardless. It sits on the corner of Walnut Avenue and West Way. The students would always joke that Mr. Way was destined to work there. Being a crappy public school, it didn't have much funding to say the least. The only kids that go there are the ones unfortunate enough to live on this side of the river. Mr. Way has been working there for about three years, which is the longest any art teacher has worked in the history of the school. Maybe it is because the school didn't technically have any "art" classes. They have one period a day called "Fine Arts," but 90% of the kids just went and smoked in the bathroom or made out in the broom closets. Only about three students would show up to Mr. Way's class. Or classes that is. He taught drawing, sculpture, graphic design, and drama. He stays for the kids, at least that's what he tells his wife.

The day before class starts, the principal of this train wreck rounds all the teachers up for the year and gives them a quick "briefing," as he call it, about what the year should look like. The principal leans against his desk. Rubbing his forehead, he speaks. "Okay, so.... tomorrow we start another fantastic year," the tiredness in his voice physically hurts. "We'll have twelve classes this year."

Looking around, Mr. Way counts the teachers aloud. "There's only eight of us?"

"Oh, right, sorry, Gerard. You're going to be teaching another class," the principal pushes his curly hair out of his face.

"But that'll be four classes, Ray," Gerard tries to explain.

"You won't be alone this year," He gestures to the man lingering behind. "Step up, Mr. Lero."

The stranger moves past and shines an eager smile. "It's Iero," he corrects kindly.

"Oooo, the new guy's hot," someone whistles.

The obvious literary teacher elbows him. "Shhh!"

"This isn't a library, hoe," Mr. Urie snaps.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please," Ray tries to get order back in the court. "Mr. Franklin I-Lero will be replacing the history teacher, but he will help Gerard with woodshop during 'Fine Arts,'" Even Principal Toro did air quotes around the word "Fine Arts." Ray turns to Mr. Way. "Could you please show Franklin around the school tomorrow during first period?" He looks away before Gerard can even respond, so he doesn't bother to.

Franklin, apparently, steps over to him. "I can't wait to work with you," he puts his hand out.

"Same here." Gerard shakes it.

---

That night, Mr. Way and Mr. Mikey, as he insisted his students call him because two Mr. Ways is confusing, drive home. They share an apartment together due to the fact that Mikey is only twenty and the last three places he lived evicted him. Gerard always felt responsible for him ever since they were little, but even more so now after the incident. He tosses his keys on the counter and begins to take off his coat. Mikey never bothers to do that. He goes right to the fridge. Gerard turns around to see the wooden kitchen table covered in peanut butter and jelly with random slices of bread thrown about. "What are you doing?" he sighs.

Mikey's hands are also covered in sticky, thick liquids. "Um, fooding?" he replies and takes a bite of what he calls a sandwich.

This is typical behavior, so Gerard just goes along with it. He grabs a wet rag from the sink and he can see the fear in Mikey's eyes. "Come over here."

He shakes his head. Gerard ignores it and starts trying to wipe Mikey's sticky face. "Mom, stop it," he basically gurgles. He eventually pulls away.