There were some things that I just knew about Gerard without ever really being told. I knew that he liked skittles too much, and that the red ones were his favorites. I knew that his favorite pair of underwear was pink satin panties. I knew that he had an obsession with Morrissey and David Bowie. I also knew that when his eyes were wide and blown, like they were that day, it meant that he was as high as a fucking kite.
I hadn't noticed at first. I'd been at his house after school on a Thursday afternoon, a new development in our routine that was born of my mother taking on later shifts on that day, and he was helping me study.
When I say 'helping', however, I mean that very loosely. Gerard, despite being a teacher, had rather unconventional ways of studying that involved, predominantly, a butt plug that he'd turn up whenever I got an answer wrong, and turn down whenever I got one right. It was infuriating, but certainly motivating. I suppose that's why I didn't notice that he was stoned at first – I'd assumed he was just horny (both states made him lazy and slightly dazed).
"Okay Frankie, give me an example of an unconventional relationship in modern or post-modern literature, with examples from the text and character analysis of at least one of the participants." He said, his finger sliding across the controller.
"How about Gerard Way fucking his student with a butt plug so he passes his exams? I'd call that unconventional." I sighed. He giggled in a high-pitched way.
"Want me to take it out?" he asked, his eyelids drooping. I nodded and he chuckled, sliding the plug out of me.
"I guess you've earned a break, kiddo." He smiled, pulling me into his arms. I sighed and buried my face in his neck.
"Mm, I love you." I sighed. He giggled softly.
"What?" I smiled.
"I don't know. I'm just laughing."
"At?"
"Nothing. Everything. I don't even know." He said, snorting with laughter.
"Right, okay." I said, raising an eyebrow at him. He sighed and lay down, his arms still circled around me, even though I was sitting up still.
"Everythin' feels so fuzzy. I like it." He sighed happily. I pouted, chewing my lip.
"Fuzzy?"
"Yeah, like an old picture or somethin'." He grinned. I narrowed my eyes.
"Come here." I said softly, pulling him up. He smiled lazily at me as I looked into his eyes, my stomach dropping when I realized how blown his pupils were.
"You're high." I said softly. He giggled.
"No, I'm just...um. Stoned." He shrugged.
"Same thing." I snapped. He let out a small whine and curled himself around me.
"Aw, don't be angry Frank." He smiled into my neck. I wiggled away from him.
"I am angry. I thought you weren't doing this shit anymore?" I groaned.
"I wasn't, and now I am. It's none of your business anyway." He said.
"Right. None of my business that my boyfriend is becoming some drugged up loser." I hissed.
"You're so mean to me. No wonder I do drugs. Fuckin' stress me out." He hummed.
"What, so it's my fault now?" I cried. He widened his eyes and pulled me closer despite my struggles.
"No, I love you a lot. I'm just stressed the fuck out. Needed to chill."
"Get off of me." I murmured, pushing him away and turning away from him, my work long since forgotten.
