Cupid De Locke | Frerard

[15]

Frank's POV

-

Alternative fucking English.
One of the only lessons of the day where nobody gives a fuck if I don't do my work. Here, I can think; free of any teacher's grasp.

I think about Gerard. How soft his lips are pressed against mine. The sensation of the heat our bodies give off as we lay in bed together. How we fit so perfectly together when we interlock.

My parents still don't know about us. I don't really know how I'm going to tell them. I guess I love them and all, but they don't know shit about me.
They still like to make me go to church with them. They forced me into a Catholic school. They constantly urge me to go see my old church friends from when I was a kid, most of which are still devoted Christians to this day. They tell me how I dress and how I act is wrong- how fucking tragic it would be if their only son became the frontman of a shitty punk band, whose only gigs are in support of slightly more popular shitty punk bands.

They think being gay is a deadly sin- always complaining about LGBT people in movies and TV shows; showing no remorse when they lecture me about how 'all gay people go to hell'. To them, I'm still their Catholic boy. I know for a fact that they'd hate to see the sight of me if the truth about Gerard and I. Let's just hope they don't start catching on about Gerard and I, for the time being.

I snap back into reality for a second, hearing Mr White, my teacher, calling my name.

"Huh, Sir?"

"Do you have that assignment?"

"What?"

"That one you promised you'd hand into me the other day."

Shit.

My face grows hot with guilt.

"That's another after-school detention with me, Iero." He shakes his head, folding his arms like my parents would after lecturing me about coming home late or some shit. "Honestly, you're going nowhere in life at this rate."

"What, a detention? That's not fair!"

"And why's that, then?"

"I didn't even get to-"

"It's obvious you didn't even do the assignment. I can clearly tell by the look on your face that you didn't even try to have a go at it, meaning you'll stay with me and learn your lesson." He spits, "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Fuck.

-

The five other kids in my class scramble out of the door, leaving just me in there, along with Mr White.

He sits at his desk, typing away at his computer. He looks at me for a second, judgingly watching me tap my foot against the gray linoleum floor. I stare at the chipping plaster walls, admiring its sickening cream tinge.

There are dicks scrawled across every wall at table-height, along with the names and initials of freshman couples that lasted only weeks, written in hearts and little boxes.

Suddenly, I hear a door open. I feel a slight draft of air against my face, and a sharp antiseptic scent that fills my nostrils,
The door is shut. So are the windows. How the fuck is this supposed to work?

"Did they let Frank's parents know?" an echo of a female voice mutters quietly from one side of me.

I almost spring out of my seat, spinning my head around to locate the person talking. There's nobody there, though it feels like she's next to me.