Famous Last Words || FRERARD

3

"Okay, class! You know what's coming, I'm assuming.... Considering most of you are on your third try of this class." The teacher, Mrs. Atkinson announced, mumbling the last part. She cleared her throat and continued. "Anywho, for those of you who don't know, you're in for a treat. Every year, we have at least 20 new students arrive. That being said, a lot of people don't know each other. Hell, a lot of you have grown up together and you don't even know each other. So, for this assignment, you will be matched with someone in this class. You will get to know them and create something to...represent them." A collective groan came from the class, along with many cuss words being uttered under people's breath. Mrs. Atkinson rolled her eyes and continued nonetheless. "It can be a written essay or something you physically create. I've had students in the past write songs, paint pictures, draw something. It's up to you, but this will be the major part of your grade." Another groan sounded from the students, making the teacher scrunch up her face in frustration. She pulled out a list and quickly read them off. Some people celebrated upon receiving their partners, others sighed and quietly accepted their doom. Mrs. Atkinson's eyes fell on Frank, a slight smirk on her face. She knew he was new here this year and boy, did she have big plans. "Frank and Gerard." The entire class went silent at the mention of the school's own black sheep. Frank buried his head in his hands and groaned, hearing the other chuckle quietly. "Alright, class. Get to work."

"Fuckin' hell." Frank muttered as he dragged himself over to Gerard's solitary desk at the back of the classroom. The black-haired freak only smirked at the other's pain. Upon seeing the other's smirk, Frank growled and rolled his eyes. "So, I'm assuming you're going to be a dick about this? Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey, I'm not happy about this assignment either. I've got you all figured out already. I have no clue why she gave us a month to work on this."

"Oh really?" Frank arched an eyebrow at Gerard's very overconfident statement.

"Mhm. Give me three minutes and I can tell you everything about your life."

"Be my guest." Gerard ran a hand through his greasy, under-washed hair before lunging closer to Frank. The smaller of the two jumped back reflexively in quite an entertaining way. Gerard simply laughed and crossed his arms leaning back a little bit.

"How pathetic."

"Aren't you supposed to be telling me my fortune or something?"

Gerard leaned closer slowly this time, Frank only holding his breath instead of backing away. Gerard's gaze petrified Frank even from a distance. He assumed it would be scarier up close and he was... very much correct. He constantly looked like the monster from 90's or early 2000's horror movie. Like if Ghostface took off his mask but wasn't Shaggy from the live-action Scooby Doo, or the Phantom of the Opera but without the deformed side of his face. Well, Gerard did have a few scars upon closer inspection, but they were hardly visible underneath his eggshell-colored foundation. Frank made a mental note to ask him what shade of foundation he actually used. A mischievous glint appeared in the hazely-brown eyes before him. That...couldn't possibly mean something good.

"Okay. I got it."

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

With a crack of his knuckles, Gerard said more words in this one statement than he had in the past three months.

"For starters, your father left when you were little. He drank quite a bit and your mother didn't like it. He was quite possibly abusive, which is why when he left, your mother took over. Hence the cigarette burns on your arms. Your mother is homophobic and quite catholic, which is what she uses as an excuse for not accepting you. You're very much gay. That was obvious from the moment I saw you. You've had quite a few boyfriends since you figured it out but have since stopped, because the last one was discovered by your mother." Frank rolled down the sleeves to his black and yellow plaid shirt, scowling at the other, which only encouraged him even more. "You don't have a very big dick, since you pretty much always cross your legs. You tend to be less dominant, so you're also a bottom. You like skateboarding, smoking weed, confusing straight guys and failing classes. You're also deathly afraid of me for some reason. I'm assuming that you've heard the rumors and let me just tell you: they're all 100% true. Also, you're into BDSM."

And at that, Frank just straight-up (which is probably the straightest thing he's ever done) laughed. It wasn't a sincere, happy laugh, though. More like a 'that was the most fucking stupid thing I've ever heard' laugh.

"You're completely wrong. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard someone be so wrong about me before. For starters, my father died in a plane crash before I was born. Those cigarette burns are... whatever. My mother is quite homophobic, but she's never found out about any of my boyfriends. I've got quite a big dick and, while I do enjoy doing all of those things, I am not a bottom. So congratulations, Gerard the psychic. You failed." And with that, the bell rang right in Gerard's ear, leaving him stumped as Frank waltzed out of the room.