Heaven Help Us / / [Frerard]

Three: Father Gerard

Heaven Help Us // [Frerard]

Chapter Three: Father Gerard

It was one of them awkward times where you feel asleep in a different room to your usual, wake up and assume you've been kidnapped or something.

There was a large streak of sunlight floating in that lit up the room, making the contents clear for the first time. It was fairly messy, especially the other girl's bed (was she called Stephanie...?) which had it's covers in a plethora in the middle of the bed. She was gone, if course. My suitcases were placed neatly next to the foot of my bed and there were random shirts flung carelessly on the floor and the walls were lined with band posters, such as Green Day, Bring Me The Horizon, Tonight Alive, Avenged Sevenfold and lots more.

Surprisingly, I was already starting to warm up to this girl, despite not ever even catching a glimpse of her face.

And that's when I remembered.

Wasn't I meant to be meeting someone at 10?

I quickly checked my phone, which I had left on some kind of wooden oak bedside table.

12:15am.

Fuck.

'He most certainly will not be pleased if you arrive a second late. Father Gerard is quite strict when it comes to time schedules.'

I played Mr Harrowfield's words from last night over and over again in my head.

Since I had slept in all my clothes from last night, I assumed that there was no point in changing them, especially since I was already two and a quarter hours late for this introduction thing.

I groaned loudly to myself, pushing back strands of my unkempt black hair from my face and jumping - in the laziest way possible - out of bed, grabbing my key in the process.

As I slumbered out my dorm, tripping over a few items on the way to the door, one thing was clear: Everything else wasn't.

I never had a single clue where I was. How was I meant to remember directions at three in the morning? Already, I was losing bits and pieces of my conversation with Mr Harrowford.

Harrowfield.

Shaking my head violently for a few seconds in the futile attempt to wake it up, I stared blankly at the dorm opposite ours - Dorm 26.

Which dorm was I in again?

I turned around to read the peeling golden encrusted numbers on the slightly-less-than-pristine door frame.

Dorm 17.

My memory was becoming slightly clearer but I still never knew where I was meeting this Priest or Preacher or whatever. What was he called again? Father Jared? Father Jed?

My thoughts were interrupted by loud, fast paced footsteps echoing down the narrow corridor.

"Frank Iero?" A man called and my head snapped to face him.

I'm guessing this was the Priest.

Speaking of the Devil...

Actually, comparing a Priest to the Devil is probably punishable by hell so I shouldn't say things like that, even in my head, just in case this Jesus crap happens to be true.

He was wearing black head to toe, as most priest's would: A black button up shirt, black skinny jeans (didn't know priests wore those?), a black and white collar and matching black hair that was quite overgrown, reminding me of my own.

He was younger than I had imagined, prettier too. He barely looked a second over twenty five.

"Yes?" I answered, as he came nearer to me, before halting only a few inches away from me.