Phobia | Frerard

Neophobia

Neo•pho•bia

Noun

The irrational phobia of learning something new, meeting someone new or accepting new and unknown knowledge of things out of ones personal comfort zone.

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This was the first time that Frank had ever been late to school. It was beyond embarrassing, he'd never home so many people stare at him when he walked into a classroom. And then on top of it, he still didn't have his tie on which added a judgmental stare from his instructor.

Frank's pale face turned from a shade of cream to a deep red blush as he sat down in his seat, cringing when he desk squeaked in the silent classroom. He placed his bag beside his feet and slumped down in attempt to vanish from everyone's cold stares.

The instructor began talking at some point, taking everyone's attention away from poor little Frank as the lesson began. He didn't pay attention though and instead stared down at the band-aids on his shaking hands. He was floored. He never expected Gerard to be so kind with what he heard from his parents. Of course he would never directly like Gerard other than acquaintances and still, that wouldn't stop him from being directly infatuated by the Diff. Frank found himself wanting to know exactly why Gerard's hair turned white, he even wanted to know what color his hair had been before it turned. Maybe blonde? No, Gerard didn't seem like the type of person to have blonde hair.

Frank stopped himself. Why was he even thinking of things like that? He shook his head, rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and focused on what his instructor was saying. He was confused by the lesson, which never really happened to him unless he was feeling ill or didn't take his medications in the morning. He'd taken his medication, he felt fine, so why couldn't he concentrate? He didn't know. He didn't care to know. And he still tried his hardest to focus. He was starting to comprehend what his instructor was saying, all up until he felt something lightly hit his shoulder.

Frank sighed and turned his head toward where the touch had come from, only to meet the eyes of the boy sitting next to him, Brendon Urie. Rolling his eyes, Frank whispered out a slightly aggressive "What do you want?"

Brendon raised one of his thick eyebrows and glanced his eyes at Frank's obvious band-aids, "Dude, what happened?"

"I fell down, obviously. Would you like to know my life story while you're at it?" Frank spat, glaring at the other.

"Jeez," Brendon chuckled, "Someone's extra grouchy today."

Frank ignored him. He just wanted the day to be over so he could go home and sulk in his room for hours on end. That was all he was good at besides pretending to be perfect for his perfectionist parents anyway. He sulked though the rest of his class to get a head start, he didn't talk anybody and he tried his hardest not to make eye contact. Everyone around him was a little confused since he was usually such an enthusiastic social butterfly.

Lunch break came finally and Frank was too happy too even contain his elatedness. He found himself a table hidden under a tree right outside the doors of the school, he smiled, knowing he be covered by the shade and left alone. He pulled his lunch from his messenger bag and started to pick away at his food. Still completely alone. Halfway through his sandwich, he looked around him and found his eyes landing on a boy sitting by himself in the grass, a few feet away from his table. The boy looked rather young, maybe about eleven or twelve, he also looked very sad.

Frank took notice and searched through his lunch bag, finding a cookie that his mother had tucked in there. He lifted himself from his seat and trudged his way over to the other boy in the grass.

"Are you alright?" Frank asked slowly, kneeling down on one knee next to the other. The boy didn't look up and only sniffled, shaking his head in a small "No."