Frank "fuck up" Iero sits in his usual room, O, of the alphabet house. Laying on the soft floor without any clothes on and very high is how he liked to spend his Friday nights. A little tired and kind of sweaty, he stares at the ceiling, the hot pink ceiling because Brendon Urie actually designed this. He thinks about his life, how pathetic he feels. He always wanted something stable in life, but he never got off the sinking ship fast enough. Back in high school, he grew up quick when a rumor turned real. Being known as the kid with the weed was easier than being known as the kid that showered in the sinks of gas stations. He thought about Jamia and how she smelled just like Gerard and the first time he met him he nearly fell over from the sudden rush he got from the perfume. He thought about jail and his first night alone there and the feeling of hopelessness radiating through the place. The blackened bed frames and busted knuckles didn't make it much easier to sleep. He thought about Gerard a lot too. Did he really like Gerard or did he just like the memories he brought back? He walks kinda stupidly and seems like he always knows and doesn't know what's going on. Don't even get Frank started on his stupid hair. It's all choppy and gross, but still cute. His enthusiasm about everything and the stupid smile that makes him look like a little kid. Okay, maybe Frank liked Gerard a little too much. He's brought back to earth by someone licking the side of his face. Turning his head, he sees what any blind old man with one eye west of the New Jersey state line could see, a naked woman.
"Are we done already, baby?" she asks, smirking.
Frank looks around a little. "Where are the other people?"
"Passed out in the corner." She dances her fingers across his chest. "But I'm feeling it still."
Frank rubs his face as he tries to sit up. "Sorry, but I gotta go. I can't keep doing this, Lindsey."
He's already halfway dressed when she finally responds. "Why?"
"I mean this was never serious. We've always been strangers really," Frank answers while buttoning his shirt.
Lindsey feels like a used trash bag. She knew this was just sex, but she still felt like she knew Frank. Stranger? Is that really the title I get? "Is there someone else?" she dares to ask.
Frank stops for a moment and looks at her. "I think I'm in love?" he does a weird hand gesture.
"With?" she can't help but ask.
Before there's an answer, Frank has already left the room.
---
Pete had fallen asleep on his desk that Friday night. The loud crash of the door makes his head pop up like a piece of toast. He squints into the hall to see Patrick, the French teacher, muttering to himself. It's a weird mix of English and French and due to this, all Pete can make out is that he must have forgotten something. Though he'd never admit it, hearing Patrick speak any foreign language turned Pete on. He stealthily walks over to the door, meaning he only runs into two desks. Patrick looks up to see a very dazed looking Pete resting on the door frame.
"Que faites-vous ici?" Patrick asks forgetting the language he's talking in.
Pete has picked up a little French from constantly being around Stump. "Um, I was sleeping?"
"Hey, you understood that?" The little man's face lights up.
"Yeah," Pete lies in an effort to impress his crush.
"Yes that's grand! Je suis tellement heureux que vous pouvez me comprendre!" Patrick has the biggest smile on his face.
"Yeah, I hang out with you a lot. You're basically mon amour," Pete bs's his way through it.
YOU ARE READING
Since When Did You Become a Romantic?
Fanfictionstarted as a crackfic but got too deticated. they're teachers, gerard is married... to a woman, uh oh.
