A/N sorry the beginning is like, bad? It gets better the deeper you read because I slowly get better at writhing stuff. Yea I hope you enjoy xx
Today was extra long. I just got out of 2nd hour. I plug in my earbuds and hit play. Black flag. I start walking down the hallways and into the music room. This was the best class of the day. Music theory. I keep my head down and shuffle to my spot. I sit down and keep my eyes to my phone until the bell rings. I wrap up my ear buds and throw them in my bag.
I see a kid walk in. He had black hair covering his face. He was short. Ripped jeans, and a greenday shirt. His nails were short, but had chips of black nail polish. Black converse. I wouldn't say his attire was much different than my normal.
He sits in the seat right in front of me. Who even was this kid? I wanted to know . I purposely drop my pencil pretty far in front of me. It skids right in front of him. I was just about to stand up to go retrevive it to get a better look at the boy. He grabs it and holds it out to me.
"Thanks.. uhh"
"Frank." He says looking down.
I nod and click my tongue. I go back to my seat. Keeping eye contact as long as possible. Mr Armstrong comes up and starts taking attendance.
"Way?" he calls out.
"Here" I say quickly. After the three people were called Frank was called to the front of the class. He stands awkwardly shifting from side to side and chewing on his lip ring.
"Uhh. I'm Frank. I'm uh, a junior and, uh... I play guitar and uhm. Ya. That's it I guess."
He was cute. I can't deny that. But I am Gerard Way. I don't have friends, let alone boyfriends. I sit alone, listen to music, and draw. Nobody wants to be friends with that. Frank goes back to his seat and starts playing with his hands.
I spend most of the class watching Frank. Mindlessly i start sketching him. His hair was hard to get right. After a few tries I get it almost just right. I needed to see him from the front. I haven't seen him enough to do it from memory. The bells rings snapping me from my headspace.
I stop at my locker to grab my sketch book. My next class was 2D art. This class wasn't bad. Just. Andy Hurley. He's made his life goal to make me miserable. Since 6th grade to now. I walk in and to my surprise Andy wasn't waiting for me. I look over to my spot and see Frank. But then I also see Andy. He's talking to Frank. I walk over there and make sure I get Andy to pick on me instead.
"Hey faggot" I hear as I'm shoved against the wall.
"Nice to see you too dickwad" I spit out to the side.
I instantly regret it. I feel his force increase at the nickname. My face is fully against the cold brick walls. The bell rings and I'm pushed to the ground quickly. I see Frank's small silhouette apear in front of me with his arm extended to help me up. I grab his hand feeling his rough fingers grip mine.
Without a word we both head to our seats. I pull out my book and start working on the assignment. We had to draw something that gives us hope. All I had was a rough sketch of a microphone.
"Uhm. Frank?" I quickly say without looking up.
"Yes?" He says. His eyes looked at me with a thoughtful tone.
"Thanks for helping me up. Andy's kinda a dick."
"Ya. I'm sorry I didn't do something sooner. At my old school getting beaten on was a normal thing for me so I didn't wanna get the same thing here." Frank said while looking at my shoes.
"Oh.. uh. I'm sorry. So, I heard you play guitar" I say trying to chance the topic to something less touchy.
His face lit up like kid on Christmas. He nods shyly and smiles a stupid cute toothy smile. Goddammit. This boy was adorable.
"Tell me about it love" the last word falls from my mouth before I could stop it. He reaches down and starts playing with the rips on his jeans.
"I started when I was thirteen. Uhm I used to be in a band, before I came here. I'd say I'm pretty good but really it isn't that hard. Any fool can pluck some strings." Frank said quietly with a small smile.
"I'm quite a fool, and I couldn't play guitar if my life depended on it" I say, earning a small chuckle from him.
"No, really. It's easy. I could teach you sometime" the last part was barely audible. He was looking at me anxiously. His eyes were scanning my face waiting for an answer.
"I would love that Frank. Give me your number so I can get your address." I really didn't need his number, but. Hey. It's whatever.
Frank quickly pulls out a sharpie and pulls out my hand. He carefully writes
712-447-9530
