Torture Of Small Talk

ONE

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" came a sudden voice when the boring beige door had swung open, making a small noise when the metal handle hit the wall.

The short grey haired lady behind an equally boring beige desk jumped from the sudden disturbance and looked up at the taller red head through the spectacles that sat low on the bridge of her nose

"Gerard. Class has already been dismissed" she sighed, straightening up her stack of papers.

"I know, my alarm didn't go off. I'm so sorry, Mrs.fletch, it won't happen again" Gerard apologised whole heartedly, gripping the tattered sketch book in his mid october  nipped hands. Gerard made a mental note to purchase a pair of gloves that didn't have holes in them.

You see, Gerard Way is a 24 year old collage student. Majoring in art and literature.
He often wasn't late, for his very few classes. Especially not art.

Gerard thought for sure he had set his alarm, extra anxious for the following days assignment.

Today the class had been sketching a model. A real life model.

Not that Gerard hadn't  sketched people before. But sketching a stranger was different. It wasn't special like drawing his loved ones.

"Well at least you made an attempt to come today. You're in luck too" her red  lips then lifted into a smile, making her eyes squint and the crows feet at the corners deepen. "Our model hasn't left yet. It won't take long so you can easily catch up"

This put Gerard at ease, knowing he wouldn't have to make up any late work or get half credit for doing it later.
He smiles his own greatful smile and took the pencil balancing between his right ear into his still chilled hand.

"Great. So, where is she?"

"He" came a voice from the far side of the room, echoing and bouncing against the poster and painting covered walls. "Is right here"

Gerard snapped his head towards the voice and felt his eyes widen.

There stood a man- boy rather. His structure was short and skinny, only slightly chubby in a few areas that seemed perfectly placed.

His pale creme skin was littered in tattoos, different arrays of color and shades, seeming almost abstract from afar.

The boy had almost shoulder length raven hair that waves like an ocean of ink from the very pen in Gerard's back pocket.

The taller lifted his gaze to meet the boys.
Half lidded eyes, irises glowing a earthy hazel, similar to Gerard's own.

"Apologies..um"

"Frank." the boy now known as Frank answered the unspoken question of his name.

"Frank.." Gerard tested the name, liking the way it slid off his tongue like honey.

"Well then, I'll leave you boys to it! I'll be off to lunch. " Mrs.Fletch perked up, pulling the purple lunch bag our from her desk drawer.

The other two in the room simply nodded, wishing the old women a nice lunch break as she exited the door, closing it behind her gently.

The room was silent for a second, white noise filled the intensely awkward atmosphere, only the ticking of the clock over head was heard faintly in the back ground

"So.. I'll just set up then" Gerard tore through the thick silence, walking over to his easel.
The wood had his name carved into the light brown surface with a small carving tool they used once for sculpting.

Frank nodded ,settling himself onto the stool in the center of the circle of easels.
He rested the heels of his feet on the little rests of the stools legs and placed his hands between his legs, on the edge of the surface he sat on.