Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was early in the morning. The sun was still hazy, as if it was groggy from waking up. Frank's cheap curtains definitely didn't block out the sun properly, as he was woken up by the light instead of his alarm.

He groaned as he got up, his eyes adjusting. It was still too early, but he didn't want to go back to sleep. He knew that if he did, it was a one way road and he wouldn't wake up until later. And he definetely didn't want that happening today. It was the first day of school after summer, and it wouldn't kill him to be on time today.

He opened the closet and picked up his clothes for the day. Faded out black skinny jeans and a misfits shirt. Pretty much the default-Frank-outfit. He slipped on his shoes and threw the backback over his shoulder, and went downstairs.

He immediately made coffee. He knew he was going to need it for today. You see, Frank hates waking up early for school, and he'd bet a million bucks that every moody teenager, such as himself, hated school.

He poured the boiling coffee into his thermos and took a sip from it, immediately regretting it. Maybe drinking from your freshly brewed and completely hot coffee wasn't the best idea, he thought as he stuck his tongue out. He looked over to the fridge, debating if he was going to find a decent breakfast in there, when he noticed a sticky note:

"I baked muffins last night; they're going to be just fine with a minute in the microwave!
Love, mom.

Well, that answers his question. He grabbed the delicious muffins his mom made and put them in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He was forever grateful for his mom. She baked him muffins even though she returns home from work super late.

After they were done, he wrapped them up, opened the front door, and stepped out. The cold autumn wind immediately hit him, and it was obvious that the misfits t-shirt did absolutely nothing to keep him warm. He didn't really care, though. His clothes were fucking cool, and a cold breeze wouldn't make him change that.

The school was just a few blocks away, but he put on his headphones anyway. He put on his favorite playlist and started walking with slow steps. He was tired, and it wouldn't hurt if he was late just a couple of minutes. He was late almost every day, so it should be nothing out of the ordinary for the teachers.

Today, he had art for the first period. Don't get me wrong, he loved drawing, but the teacher just hated his guts. She would always throw tantrums like a kid for the most stupid shit. For example, one time, they were supposed to draw their favorite animals, and Frank drew zombie kitties attacking the school. Technically, he did nothing wrong, but she was so pissed off at him, and he ended up in the principal's office. So he hated her back.

He shivered at the thought of having to face this bitch so early in the morning. He didn't even get to make jokes in her class. Frank had always been the kid that talks back and makes jokes, always giving the class a good laugh even if he got in trouble afterwards. But he would be already dead if he talked back to her of all people. He really wanted to be late on purpose. So that's what he did.

Since he had already arrived at school, he decided that hiding in the school garden was a good idea. No one knew that the garden existed, and Frank never saw anyone even look its direction, much less visit it. So he sat down on the grass behind some bushes (because you never know) and waited until he was properly late. He didn't even bother taking off his headphones, so now, if anyone happened to spot him or walk by, he would look like a freak stalker hiding behind some bushes listening to The Cure.

He was at least twenty minutes late by now, but he didn't want to overdo it. If he was late more than that, maybe he would actually get detention. He hated detention. It was so boring.

With that, he left his hiding spot with leafs all over his hair. He shook them off by shaking his head a little. So he began finally walking to class, slowly. In the meantime, he took his headphones off too because he didn't want more trouble. Not that this ever stopped him before, but it was still the first day of school.

He walked to class, taking his time, not a single worry in his head. He confidently opened the door, ready to face the familiar bitch he oh so much hated. Instead, he was met with a young man with long, jet-black hair and a signature waistcoat. From afar, he could be mistaken for a student who takes school way too seriously. But his whole demeanor screamed teacher.

Oh, Frank was so fucked.

Chapter Text

Frank was frozen in the doorstep of the classroom. He was left staring at the other man with wide eyes. The teacher had very good features. He had long black hair, like an ink waterfall falling soflty to his shoulders, with a singular blue strand contrasting against the darkness. His eyes were bright hazel with long lashes, and his nose was rather pointed. He was staring back at Frank. Since when did teachers dye their hair?

Frank realized all eyes were drawn to him, and he attempted to casually walk over to the back and take his seat. He threw his backpack on the desk and leaned back onto his chair as if he didn't just interrupt the lesson. The teacher looked at him and squinted his eyes.

"Well, you must be Mr. Iero, right? And to what do I owe the pleasure?" He said with a smile. His voice was rather high-pitched and feminine, which Frank didn't really expect.

Frank just shrugged and looked down. He looked so calm and casual and cool. Well, he tried to.

"Actually, it's Frank, sir. Mr. Iero is my dad."

The teacher just hummed and rolled his eyes a little, like a fifteen year old who was grounded. He was still smiling, though, never letting it falter.

"Well, I'm Mr. Way, I already introduced myself to the class, but I had to repeat it due to your little show."

What show? He didn't do anything.

"Well, Frank, do you tend to be late every day, or is it just a one-time thing?" He said rather cheerfully, his attitude contrasting against his words.

"Nope. Better get used to it, Mr. Gay."

The class roared with laughter as Mr. Way's smile tightened slightly. He looked at Frank in the eyes, which had now abandoned the idea of not getting detention. Mr. Way just stood there, but he joined shortly after, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed too. The whole class went quiet, and Mr. Way was left giggling alone like a maniac. His laughter sounded like cold water.

"Hilarious, Frank! There is nothing better than a good laugh! I can't wait to see you in detention so that I can hear more jokes of yours!"

The class was deathly quiet. Frank just stared at Mr. Way, his eyes gleaming warningly, as if he could do something to take his revenge. Mr. Way just walked over to his desk and sat down calmly.

"So, since it's the first day of school today, I want you guys to draw yourselves! I want you to grab your aprons from the back of the class and get your acrylic paint."

Frank groaned loudly. He was sure that fucker Mr. Way was going to give him a shitty grade if he didn't make a perfect painting. He didn't precisely do anything bad to Frank yet other than the detention, but Frank hated being the center of attention, and Mr. Way had a whole chit-chat with him in front of the class. And gave him detention. That bitch.

He set up the canvas and stared blankly at it for a few minutes. It stared back. The empty canvas always scared him, as in fear of fucking up a perfectly white canvas with a garbage drawing. He was scared to fill it with colors, scared of criticism and bad grades. But he was tough, or more precisely, that's what he told himself.

He snapped out of it and started sketching with his pencil. The relatively rough sketch of himself stared at him menacingly. Heh. He nailed the Frank Look.

He got the paint and made a pale skin shade that almost looked sickly. He was going for a zombie look, so he added some suddle green too. As he applied it to the canvas, and it looked perfect. After that, he gained his usual confidence, his brush strokes more certain, his hand more steady.

He applied very dark circles around the eyes and left the lips almost paper white. He even added edgy blood tears. The hair was easier to paint, just simple black hair. Lastly, he added his lip ring and stood back to admire his work. It looked kickass. At this point, he didn't care if he got a shitty grade. He liked his drawing, and no one was ruining that for him.

The moment he started removing the apron, the bell rang. He finished just in time. A lot of the students were whining and complaining, as their drawings were still in their early stages. Frank felt his chest swell with pride.

Mr. Way clapped his hands together. "All right, class! Time's up. It's okay, though you can all take your work home and hand it in on Friday as homework!"

That drew another round of complaining from the class. Everyone took the canvases and left, and the classroom was left empty except for one student.

Frank was always the last one to leave. He was taking his time packing up, taking care of his stuff, before placing them in his backpack. He could feel Mr. Way's eyes on him.

He threw the backpack over his shoulder and started walking towards the door. He shot a final glance at Mr. Way, who was sat on his desk, writing something in a very dirty black sketchbook with stickers all over the cover. Or rather, he was drawing in that sketchbook.

Frank tried to peek at his drawing while he was leaving the class. He saw doodles of some characters battling, but couldn't make out the details since Mr. Way's hand covered the page as soon as he realized Frank was looking. Mr. Way looked at Frank with a quirked eyebrow and a little smile.

"Whatcha drawing?" Said Frank, trying to sound super casual.

"Oh, nothing important." Mr. Way said, a little melancholic. Now it was Frank's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Can I see?"

Mr. Way looked at him in the eyes again. "You should go now, Frank. Recess is almost over." He said, putting the sketchbook in his bag.

Frank just shrugged and started walking to the door. He shot a final glance at Mr. Way, who was looking out of the window. Then Frank finally left.

Chapter Text

It wasn't unusual for Frank to get detention. He would get in trouble all the time at school, and for the stupidest reasons, too. For example, he did nothing wrong this time. It wasn't his own damn fault that Mr. Way was gay. Frank simply just pointed it out. That's why he hated school and teachers, because it was all just fucking unfair. All a stupid game. A race, even. Only the teacher always had the head start. That's all he thought while he was walking down the hallway, heading to the art's classroom to face Mr. Way.

As Frank was walking down the hallway, all the students that were going the opposite way than Frank to head to the exit, were shooting him weird looks, which made him feel like a complete idiot.

He stood outside the door for a couple of seconds, debating whether he should knock or not. Of course, he decided against knocking. It was Frank, after all. No way Mr. Way really expected him to fucking knock.

He burst into the classroom and looked over at Mr. Way's desk with a blank look, as if saying, "What, you're gonna give me more detention?"

Mr. Way just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. Frank rolled his eyes dramatically and sat down in his chair, as far away from the teacher as possible.

Frank hated Mr. Way. Today, he was supposed to practice new songs with his band, but of course not, he had to stay here in detention with stupid fucking Mr. Gay. His bandmates were totally gonna be pissed at him for not coming. He would have to come up with an excuse later, too.

Mr. Way was sitting behind his desk, grading some works calmly. Who even forces people to have homework in art class?

The teacher was observing the works of his students carefully, his eyes going back and forth all the time, almost like he was reading a book. His long eyelashes flickered every time he blinked, as he ran his pen down his bottom lip, which was kinda hot...

Wait. What? Hot?

No, no, no, Frank must have completely lost his mind. All of this detention time drained his sanity, for sure. Mr. Way was definitely not hot, much less handsome at all. Or was he?

Frank ran a hand through his hair. Mr. Way looked fucking good. His hair looked so beautiful, although it was a little greasy. The grease just added to the charm. But Mr. Way was a teacher! And no other than the teacher who gave him detention.

No way he found Mr. Way hot of all people. Frank wasn't gay! It doesn't matter that he painted his nails and wore makeup sometimes, right? He wasn't gay, nor did he like Mr. Way. He sighed very deeply, which got Mr. Way's attention. He looked up and finally broke the defeaning silence.

"That's the only way you can learn not to disrespect your teachers, Frank." He looked at his wristwatch. "You can leave in an hour. Until then, please just be quiet." And with that, he went back to working.

Frank huffed and collapsed on his desk. This was going to be a long hour. Without thinking, he reached for his pocket and got out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He put the pack back in his pocket, he brought the cigar to his lips, and lit it up.

The smell of smoke must have immediately hit Mr. Way, because in a matter of seconds, he was standing right in front of Frank's desk. His eyes were wide. Frank just raised an eyebrow, but then he realized where he was and what he was doing. Which caused him to feel like a complete idot once again. Mr. Way stretched out his arm.

Frank took the cigarette from his lips and put it out on the wall, which seemed to worsen his position. Mr. Way kept his arm stretched out, as if asking Frank to give him the cigarette he just put out.

"What is it?"

"Give me the pack."

"What?"

No way he was giving away his smokes! He knew he fucked up by lighting up one in class, but not his whole pack!

"Give it."

"No."

Mr. Way's eyes flickered. He kept his cool, though. He took a deep breath and walked behind Frank, doing a circle behind him, and then turning back to his desk. He sat down and continued his work just like before. What a weirdo...

Frank was putting the lighter back in his pocket when he realized the pack wasn't there anymore. He checked the other pocket. Nothing. He started looking around the class, but his eyes landed on a pack of cigarettes on Mr. Way's desk. And they definitely weren't there before.

Frank gasped in disbelief. Did that fucker just steal his cigars? And he looked so unbothered, too. As if he didn't just snatch away a pack of cigarettes from his students pocket like a right burglar. And Frank noticed, very annoyed, that Mr. Way was smiling to himself. He even let out quiet giggles as he graded the papers. Frank shot him an angry look, which went totally unnoticed by Mr. Way. That only caused him to get more angry.

"Give it back."

"Give what back?"

Frank was really trying not to walk over there and punch him in the nose. His cute fucking nose that was scrunched up as he tried to hold back his giggles.

"The pack. Give it."

"Nu-uh."

"Yu-huh! Shit is expensive!"

Mr. Way's expression turned more serious. "Language."

"Are you kidding me?" Said Frank. The way Mr. Way's brain was functioning really was a mystery to Frank.

Mr. Way just rolled his eyes and went back to grading the papers. Frank was really pissed. The pack was new, and he was not letting it go. He spent the rest of detention just staring angrily at Mr. Way, kind of hoping that he would give in. But he didn't. Nor did he look away from his work for the rest of detention, until after what seemed like ages to Frank, he checked his wristwatch.

"Well, Frank, you can finally leave. Pack your stuff." He stood up and started getting his own stuff. Frank got out of his chair, threw his backpack over his shoulder and looked at Mr. Way.

"Well?"

Mr. Way looked at him, confused. "Well what?"

Frank sighed loudly, so that Mr. Way could hear him, and now it was his turn to stretch out his hand. Mr. Way looked at the hand, then back at Frank.

"Absolutely not."

"They cost money, asshole!" Yelled Frank.

"Language! And this is bad for your health, Frank! Now say goodbye to this pack, because you are not getting it back."

Frank groaned in frustration and left with quick steps. He could hear Mr. Way's footsteps hurrying behind him, so he started walking faster.

He headed outside, and there was thick fog and cold wind. The weather hated Frank, it seems. He walked towards the bus stop and sat on the bench. Mr. Way had walked to his car, so at least he didn't have that bitch telling him how bad smoking is for his health or some shit. It took some minutes for Frank to realize that his bus wasn't going to come any time soon. It had already left, when school was normally over. But he stayed an extra hour, so the bus wasn't coming to this stop for another four hours.

Frank groaned. He had to go home on foot, and with that terrible weather, there was no way he wasn't going to catch a cold. A car stopped right in front of him. As the window rolled down, Frank saw Mr. Way looking at him.

"Everything okay?" He said.

"My bus took off hours ago."

Mr. Way pouted. "Huh. I didn't think the detention would make you miss your bus."

"Yeah, well it did." Said Frank, still pissed at Mr. Way for the cigarettes. If he didn't take them away, he would definitely be smoking one right now. Mr. Way said something, but Frank didn't make it out.

"What?"

"Want a ride?"

Frank blinked. Mr. Way was offering a lift to him? To drive him home? Frank tried to seem more casual than he felt, and for the first time in his life, it was almost impossible to act cool.

"Sure, yeah." He said, standing up from the bench. Mr. Way got out of the car and opened the passenger's seat for him. At least he had some manners left in him and acted nicely, other than stealing smokes.

Frank got in the car and Mr. Way closed the door for him, and then sat back down on the driver's seat.

"Give me directions?"

"Yeah."

And with that, Mr. Way and Frank were on their way. After about 15 minutes of awkward silence and directions from Frank, they arrived at Frank's house.

Frank got out of the car and looked back at Mr. Way. He was looking back at Frank, with a little smile. .

"Alright, bye Frank!" He said, and got something out of his pocket. Frank realized with rage that it was his smokes. Mr. Way brought one to his lips, lit it up and took a long drag. Frank looked at him with a death stare. He knew there was nothing he could do.

"Bye, Mr. Way."

Chapter Text

Frank was skipping. It was Wednesday, and on Wednesday mornings, he had math on first period. Frank hated math so, so much. He was very bad at it, you see. Not that he tried very much, though. The teacher had a special talent to make everything five times more boring than it already was, and Frank didn't really study for school that much in general.

He was hanging out in the school garden again. As per usual, no one was there. He was listening to the Misfits while smoking a cigarette. He had gotten a new pack since his previous one was snatched away from him by no other than the infamous Mr. Way.

Mr. Way was very mysterious to Frank. He knew nothing about him other than the fact that he's a huge dick. And that he kind of cute when he giggles, and he keeps his drawings secret. And apparently could make a great burglar! Who even steals cigars like that? And how was he even so smooth with it?

Frank shrugged and took a drag. Mr. Way was one of the greatest mysteries, full of secrets and riddles for Frank to solve. Frank gazed around. The sky was clear from clouds and still a little dark due to the early morning hour. The grass he was sitting on was mostly green, which was pleasant to look at. He was surrounded by flowers of all kinds, and for a moment, he wonders who takes care of those. They looked so fresh and alive, and assuming that no one ever visited the garden, it made Frank curious about it.

He took another drag. He felt a little guilty for blowing cigarette smoke out in nature, but he couldn't be bothered right now. He wanted to soothe his headache, which was getting worse by the minute. Smoking helped with everything. Or so he told himself.

He sighed, laying his head back in the plants and bushes. The scent was beautiful, and his eyelids felt heavy. He hadn't slept more than 3 hours that night. He was up playing guitar quietly in his room, practicing new songs for the band since he lost the last rehearsal.

He could feel the sound of running water in the distance, and he would wonder what it was and head to the direction of the sound if he was more awake. His breath was becoming slower, his muscles becoming more relaxed...

And then water splattered all over his face, soaking his clothes. He opened his eyes, but they kept filling with water no matter how much he blinked repeatedly. He put both hands in front of him defensively, trying to stop the water that was soaking his clothes and hair. What the fuck was going on?

The water stopped, and he heard a gasp and quiet swear words from someone. Who even was here? Was he being punished by God for skipping math?

"Oh my God, Frank?" Said a voice. The person hurried to his side and looked at him, checking if he's okay. Frank's vision was too blurry to even make out who it was. Two hands were brought to his face, wiping away the water with little success.

Frank was so confused. No one visited the garden, he was sure of it. And now, not only someone was here, but they were splattering water all over him?

Frank wiped his eyes with his sleeves to get a better view of the mystery person. And in front of him was sitting the one and only...

Mr. Way?

He was looking at Frank with his wide hazel eyes, looking actually concerned for the boy. Frank definitely hadn't seen that look on him before.

"Mr. Way? What are you doing here?"

"I'd ask you the same question!"

Frank looked at Mr. Way with a death stare. He did not need company while skipping, much less from a literal teacher. And he definitely did not want to answer Mr. Way's question.

"I'm pretty sure you figured."

Mr. Way gave him a pout as if telling him not to skip, but he didn't word his thoughts. His pout looked fucking adorable, and Frank hated him for that.

"Mr. Way, honestly, what are you doing in the garden? How do you even know it exists? I've been hanging out here since the beginning of time, I know no one comes here."

Mr. Way hesitated for a moment. He opened his mouth and closed it several times before speaking in the smallest voice Frank has ever heard from him.

"I like to water the plants in my free hours." He said with a little smile. Frank felt his heart melt in his chest. He tried to dismiss the feeling, or rather mask it so that it went unnoticed. Mr. Way helped him up.

"You should go to class, Frank. I won't ditch you, but you could get in trouble for this."

"I've skipped a million times. No one gives a shit about me being in class or not."

"Language, Frank, come on." Said Mr. Way, huffing a little.

"I'd say the same for you, Mr. Way." Said Frank with a shit-eating grin. Mr. Way raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever do you mean?"

Frank chuckled a little. "I could hear you muttering to yourself when you splashed water at me." He couldn't help but laugh softly now that he thought about it.

Mr. Way was obviously caught off guard. "I uhm, I don't... I didn't! That's lies." He said, rolling his eyes. He was laughing too.

If anyone was taking a stroll nearby right now, they would see two men (seemingly crazy), sitting on grass laughing, the one soaked from head to toe, and the other with a professional signature waistcoat and dress pants. It would be a unique sight now, wouldn't it?

Chapter Text

As the weeks went by, Frank started to learn more and more about the ever mysterious Mr. Way. Actually, very unimportant and little things, but still. Without even knowing it, he wanted to learn more about him, even if it was just more little details. Like the way he chews his nails when he thinks nobody's looking, how slowly he blinks when he's sleepy due to not having his coffee in the morning, or just the way he mischievously looks at the class when he has a pop quiz planned. And, of course, the way he scrunches his nose when he laughs. All of those little things formed Mr. Way in Frank's head. Like the ingredients for a meal.

It was October, and the weather was really starting to become colder and colder. Frank still wore t-shirts, though. The only difference was that he threw a leather jacket on top and called it a day. It always did nothing to warm him up, of course.

Monday. The most miserable day of the week. The sun was still rising when school started, resulting in the morning being completely dark when Frank woke up. Do you have any idea how bad it is waking up and seeing nighttime out the window? It's like waking up at 3 a.m. to piss, only you have to get ready and drag your ass to school.

There was no way he was getting out of this. The last time he skipped, he was in deep shit with his mom because school apparently called her. She took his CDs away from him for a month, and he sure as hell didn't want that happening again. So he let out a long, frustrated groan and got out of bed.

He wore his usual outfit, but with the leather jacket on, he got his bag ready for the day, and in a few minutes, he was on his way. School was not far, but he was walking as fast as he could due to his terrible choice of clothing. He wanted to go to school as fast as possible, because he was very fucking cold and the school had radiators. He was hugging his own body with his arms in an attempt to warm himself up, but that had little to no success. He made a mental note to wear his gloves tomorrow, even though they were fingerless.

With that, he arrived at school on time. That was a rare thing to happen. He immediately ran inside the building because the radiators were on in there. A few seconds after entering, he felt his body temperature return to normal. He still rubbed his palms together, though, trying to warm up as much as possible. He was sure he would freeze to death one day. He wondered if he would when winter actually arrived, because if he got so cold in fall, then he was probably fucked.

As he looked around, he realized that the hallways were filled with students, which was something Frank wasn't used to seeing in the morning. Usually, when he arrived at school, it was very silent and empty, as everyone was already in class. He had almost forgotten how it's like arriving on time.

He squeezed his way to the art classroom at the end of the long hallway to the right. It was the only classroom that was this far away from the others, almost like it was put in time-out. There was no one in that hallway. It stretched before him completely empty, and Frank couldn't help but be surprised. When he entered the school, there were hundreds of students there. Yet this hallway was left deserted.

Frank started walking towards the classroom. He was early, yeah, but what was he supposed to do while waiting for class to start? It's not like it was bad arriving early.

As he walked further into the hallway, he started hearing something. He walked closer to the door and realized that it was music. Who blasted music at the early morning at school? What kind of freak student was looming there listening to Green Day that Frank didn't notice?

He walked to the door and gave it a couple of knocks. He got no answer. He sighed and rolled his eyes, knocking harder. Yet still, no one answered the damn door. He then realized, "Why am I knocking? It's me."

He slammed the door open with his hand and looked around. He didn't know what he expected to see, but definitely not Mr. Way singing and dancing while painting in the middle of the classroom. He didn't even notice Frank, as he had his back to the door. His strokes were synced to the rhythm of the song, and he was swaying his hips from side to side while tapping his foot to the rhythm. His voice could be heared clearly over Billie Armstrong's voice, and Frank thought it sounded captivating.

He didn't know what to do, so he just carried on standing there, in the doorstep, watching his teacher paint and paint. He couldn't help but glance over to the drawing since he could finally take a look at it without Mr. Way hiding it. It looked so good.

There were six characters in what seemed to be a battle, all wearing black masks. They had superpowers, Frank figured. There was a strong guy, a boy with tentacle hands, a guy who was... talking to a ghost? A girl who was whispering a rumor to one of the bad guys, a dude who teleported and a guy with knives. Frank didn't understand what exact powers they had. What do rumors have to do with superpowers?

Before Frank could observe the drawing more closely, the bell rang. Frank barely heard it, but Mr. Way seemed to have heard immediately. He turned around to close the music, but before he could reach the cd player, he gasped loudly, dropping his brush on the floor, almost losing his balance. He was looking at Frank wide-eyed, clearly not expecting company.

"Frank?"

Frank waved awkwardly "Hi Mr. Way."

Mr. Way looked upset. He slammed his hand down to his cd player, finally shutting off the music. He looked at Frank with those bright hazel eyes once again and then looked down to his feet. He seemed embarrassed.

"Uh, hey. That drawing looks really good. And Green Day is sick." Said Frank, giving Mr. Way one of his smiles. Frank didn't smile with honesty often. He kept his smiles for special occasions. But he thought a reassuring smile would soothe Mr. Way's embarrassment. Frank didn't even find it embarrassing, Green Day fucking rocks. He even found it a little cool that his teacher listens to one of his favorite bands.

Mr. Way looked at Frank again, smiling back. When he smiled, fireworks exploded in Frank's chest, like a thousand golden sunbeams lighting up the room.

"Thanks."

Frank couldn't get enough of that smile. They just stood there for a couple of minutes until Frank broke the silence.

"What are their superpowers, exactly? I was trying to figure it out."

Mr. Way's face lit up to the question. "Well, this is a comic I've been wanting to write. It's called the Umbrella Academy! The plot is that forty-three women suddenly got pregnant at the same time, and they gave birth to kids with super powers! A guy named Reginald Hargreeves adopted seven of them and trained them. But there was one girl that seemingly didn't have powers, but..."

Frank could listen to Mr. Way ramble for hours. He stood there, listening to his ideas and nodding along. That was until the students started barging in. Frank almost forgot he was at school waiting for class to start. Mr. Way cut himself off and walked to his desk, and Frank took that as a signal to go to his own.

As the students sat down, still chattering amongst themselves, Frank was, for once, a little bit happy to be in class.

"Good morning, guys!" Said Mr. Way cheerfully, as always. "Get your aprons because we are painting today!" Everyone groaned in unison, but for once, Frank didn't. He instead was the first one who headed to the back to get his acrylic paint, brushes, and apron.

"Today, I want you to draw something or someone who inspires you. The drawing can be anything you want!" He said happily. The class got to work, and Frank was more than happy to paint Mr. Way.

Chapter Text

It was the 31st of October, and Halloween was finally here. Frank liked Halloween a lot. When he was a kid, he used to go trick or treating all the time, and he always got lots of candy due to his amazing costumes. They were all homemade because his mom thought that Halloween was silly. But that never stopped him. Frank always had the best costume in the neighborhood, coming up with something new every year. But he grew up. He doesn't go trick or treating anymore.

Halloween has always been important to Frank because it's also his birthday. Even though his friends forgot almost every year when he was a kid, he still loved Halloween. But now he didn't even have any friends.

Frank rarely celebrated his birthday anymore. Every year, his birthday was just a regular day. Only his mom got home from work with a stale muffin from the bakery and sang the happy birthday song to him. There wasn't even a candle he could blow.

Frank was lying in bed. It was really early, and his alarm hadn't even gone off yet, but he woke up earlier than usual for some reason and couldn't go back to sleep.

It was Friday, so he had science on the first period, English on second, geography on third and then...

Art.

Frank had grown to actually kind of like art. He loved drawing, and other than that, there was Mr. Way. Mr. Way was so passionate about art. He was cute, pretty, and hot at the same time. And that blue strand did things to him. Frank was hating himself for thinking like that about him. Mr. Way was a man like Frank, and no less a fucking teacher. And Frank was losing his shit just thinking about him. But he couldn't help it. Mr. Way was captivating.

He sighed and got up, even though it was still pretty early. He got ready and wore his usual clothes. The weather was actually starting to get deathly colder by the day, so he wore a long sleeve shirt under his t-shirt, skinny jeans, and a scarf. He also wore his fingerless gloves this time.

He arrived at school mostly in time, only a little bit late. The science teacher was not at all surprised about that.

And as per usual, no one wished him a happy birthday. He didn't expect anyone to do that, anyway.

The other periods passed very, very slowly. Frank hated every single subject and teacher (almost), so a period that lasted only an hour, felt like fifty to him. When it was time for art, Frank was nearly excited to see Mr. Way. He always seemed to bring a smile to Frank's lips, and he could use a smile right now.

He sat on his chair and waited for Mr. Way to arrive. It was odd that he wasn't already here, but Frank decided not to question it. He crossed his arms on the desk and his head on top and drifted off to sleep for a couple of minutes. That was until Mr. Way burst into the classroom suddenly.

"Sorry I'm late, class! I..." He paused to pant. Seems like he was running in the hallway. Frank chuckled a little under his breath as he imagined a stressed Mr. Way running to class, like he was a student.

Mr. Way took a deep breath and continued talking. "I had an emergency with my brother." He said as he dropped all his stuff on the desk with a loud plop. Frank didn't know Mr. Way had a brother. He wondered who was older.

"Happy Halloween!" He said once he was sat down. "So, since it's Halloween today, I want you to draw something scary. Anything can work! Something like spiders or centipedes, or even a bad hair day! Anything that you find scary." Exclaimed Mr. Way and leaned back on his chair.

Frank looked at the canvas. He thought of drawing something generic, like a skeleton or something, but lately, he had been actually trying for this class. He had no idea what he wanted to draw. In the meantime, the other students had all started drawing. Everyone was drawing different stuff, but he saw a lot of drawings with insects. Frank didn't understand why everyone hated insects so much. He thought they were fine.

As he was struggling to figure out what to draw, his phone started ringing loudly. Uh oh. Phones weren't allowed in school. Mr. Way looked at him, and so did the rest of the class.

Frank opened his backpack and shut it off quickly, even though he knew he had gotten everyone's attention. Mr. Way stayed quiet for a moment.

"Frank, you know phones aren't allowed here."

"Yeah, sorry. It was probably my mom calling me to tell me happy birthday."

Mr. Way's eyes gleamed. "It's your birthday? Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's nothing, really. Can we go back to drawing now?"

Mr. Way kept quiet for a little while before nodding and going back to whatever he was doing. The rest of the class went back to drawing, too. Frank was happy he didn't get detention.

Eventually, he decided to draw a haunted house. He thought ghosts were cool, so it worked for him. It turned out great, but he didn't have time to finish it. He had to take it home to finish it, even though he didn't have to.

The rest of the day passed by quicker than he expected. He was on social studies, and then he was free to go home. But when he arrived in class, his professor stopped him. "Iero, Mr. Way told me to inform you that he wants to meet you in the art classroom. You are going to stay there ten minutes, then come back here. Understood?"

Frank was surprised to hear that. "Yeah, ok, sir." He said and left the classroom. What did Mr. Way even want? Was he in trouble for the phone?

When he arrived, Mr. Way was sitting behind his desk, waiting for him.

"Frank, hi." He said, his hand behind his back in a professional manner. So yes, Frank was probably in deep shit.

"What's up, Mr. Way?" Said Frank, genuinely curious about his answer.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I just wanted... well..." He didn't finish. Instead, he pulled a muffin with a singular candle on top from behind his back. Frank's jaw dropped to the ground. "Here. I would give you something better if I knew! I swear, I-" He was cut off by a kiss on the cheek.

Mr. Way looked at Frank, his hazel eyes very wide. Frank realized what he did.

Oh my God.

He kissed Mr. Way on the cheek.

And he realized that Mr. Way's cheeks were a little flushed, too.

Mr. Way kept looking at him with big, sad eyes. When he spoke, it sounded painful. He whispered, "I'm sorry."

And at that moment, Frank's entire world collapsed.

Chapter Text

Frank was waiting for the bus. School was over for the day, and Saturday was coming, so everyone was happy. Except for one.

Frank was sitting on the bench of the bus stop, hugging his backpack tightly to his chest. It didn't provide him any warmth or comfort, though. It didn't feel like a real hug.

He had fucked up real bad. What was he even thinking? That Mr. Way would kiss him back or something? Was he really that stupid to expect something more than rejection? Since that's all he got from everyone, now everything should be normal. He should have known. He shouldn't feel like utter garbage.

A fat tear rolled down his cheek, but he wiped it away with his sleeve quickly. He felt so embarrassed and stupid. Why was he like this? Mr. Way had every right to be disgusted by him. How would he face him on Monday?

The bus finally arrived, and Frank couldn't wait to go home after all of this. He plopped down to an empty seat and put his backpack on the seat next to him. To make it clear that he didn't want anyone to sit with him. He put on his headphones and put on his favorite mix since it usually cheered him up. But it didn't work.

Soon, he was home. Once he was inside, he abandoned his backpack on the ground and ran upstairs. He collapsed on the bed, wrapping himself in his blanket and finally let his tears spill. He felt like a complete fucking idiot, who violates people's personal space. The only person who was able to make him smile, now probably didn't even want to see him anymore. He didn't blame him.

He sat up from the bed, tugging his blanket tighter to his body, trying to quiet down his sobs, even though no one was home. He felt like an overdramatic baby.

He grabbed his guitar from the ground and strummed a chord. The frets felt almost unfamiliar against his fingers since he hadn't played in at least one week. And to top it all off, he had band practice today. He couldn't skip it again, he was already on thin ice with his bandmates. So he might as well practice.

So he cleared his throat, which was now sore, and started playing and singing, as he looked out of the window.

"We hold in our hearts the sword and the faith
Swelled up from the rain, clouds move like a wraith
Well after all, we'll lie another day,
And through it all, we'll find some other way"

As he sang, he felt like the world around him disappeared, and it was only him, his guitar, and his longing for a hug. His longing for Mr. Way's hug.

Frank had always loved his guitar. He played it since he was a kid, self-taught. Who would have thought that it would provide him the slightest amount of comfort in a moment like this.

When the song was finished, Frank set down the guitar and blinked back some fresh tears. He laid down on his bed, pulling the blankets all the way up to his nose. He stayed there for what felt like a couple of minutes, but in reality, it had been hours. When he looked out of the window again, it was already nighttime. The house was still empty. He wondered where his mom was, she was usually back by now. He checked his phone and saw a notification from her.

"Sorry, baby, I have to work overtime tonight. Happy birthday, Frankie! I'm sorry we won't be able to celebrate your birthday this year. I love you!"

Frank sighed and left his phone on the nightstand. He still felt like shit. And he felt stupid for it. Any other normal human being would get over this in about an hour. But nooo, Frank had to sit in his room all day like a baby and cry. It wasn't even that great, it was just a rejection, nothing new.

A rejection from someone very special.

Since it was nighttime, he thought that some sleep would make him feel better. Maybe in the morning, everything would be back to normal.

But he knew that wasn't the case.

He curled up in a ball on the bed, wrapped around his blanket. He hadn't even changed out of his school clothes, but he couldn't be bothered to change.

He fell asleep, knowing that when he woke up tommorow morning, he would live another day of being Frank Iero, which was not the greatest motivation to ever want to wake up again.

Chapter Text

Saturday and Sunday passed by quicker than Frank wanted them to. He really didn't look forward to Monday, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to face Mr. Way after his birthday. He was sure that he wouldn't want to see him, anyway.

He got up with a frown on his face, and the weather pretty much matched his mood perfectly. Cloudy and dark. As he got ready for school, his anxiety only grew. He tried to brush it off.

He got to school a little bit late, as always. When he walked over to the art classroom's door, he hesitated for a moment. He thought maybe knocking this time wouldn't hurt.

So he knocked before entering. He peeked his head into the classroom and then got in fully. He didn't dare look Mr. Way's direction. He plopped down on his chair and crossed his arm in front of his chest, looking down to his feet. Or more precisely, anywhere but at Mr. Way.

Mr. Way didn't say a word this time, even though Frank could feel his eyes on him, as well as everyone else's. He didn't look up, though.

Eventually, everyone turned back to their work. Frank took that as a chance to look up, and he saw everyone in class sculpting clay. Frank hated working with clay. He had only tried it once before, and it went mortifyingly wrong. So he stayed put.

And he stayed put for the whole period, since no one bothered to tell him work too, not even Mr. Way. He seemed really busy with... well, nothing. He was just pretending to be super busy, but Frank could tell that he was doing nothing. He would have known if he was actually working because he knew the expression he had when he was thinking. And he didn't have that expression. He seemed unamused or even sad. But Frank tried not to care that much. He probably wasn't even going to talk to him ever again, so it was just useless to think about him. And unwanted.

When the bell rang, Frank felt like ages had passed. He got up and grabbed his backpack, and soon, he was on his way to the door. Somehow, he was the last student left in the classroom again.

As he approached the door, he heard a little voice. He turned around and saw Mr. Way looking at his feet.

Frank didn't speak. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at his questioningly. Mr. Way looked at him.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

Frank certainly didn't expect that.

"Mhm, yeah." He answered, and he tried to sound casual as always, but he cringed at his voice cracking.

Mr. Way kept quiet for some minutes. As if he was gathering the courage to say something. He opened his moth and closed it several times, and Frank noticed that he did that when he was struggling to express himself. He took a step closer to Frank and looked at him in the eyes.

He kissed Frank on the cheek.

Frank'a face heated up slightly. He put his hand to his cheek, like he was processing the fact that Mr. Way's lips had touched him. He smiled stupidly.

Mr. Way smiled at him too, a shy smile that will be carved on Frank's heart forever.

"Frank, we do need to talk." He said eventually.

"Sure, what's up?" Frank was still smiling a little.

"I- uhm, this is... this is wrong, Frank." He said, looking up at him with his big sad eyes again.

"What is wrong?" Said Frank, his smile disappearing.

"This whole thing!" Said Mr. Way. He looked distressed all of the sudden. "We can't do this! I'm your teacher, and you're my student! I could get fired for this, or worse, I could get jailtime or something! I told my brother how I feel, and he said that there should be something wrong with me, and that I used to be normal. And he's fucking right!" He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"And I feel stupid and disgusting and weird that I feel things about you! I hate how pretty and inspiring you are to me, Frankie! And no matter how much I try to get you off my mind, I can't! " His eyes were filled with tears now. Eventuall, his tears spilled and he broke down to quiet sobs.

Frank's frown deepened at the sight of Mr. Way crying. He had burried his face in his hands, his beautiful greasy hair falling in front of everything. He had to make him feel better, and he had to do it quick.

"There's nothing in the world that could make you something other than special." Said Frank. Mr. Way looked at him, and Frank's heart broke at the sight of his pretty face flushed red, his hazel eyes overflowing with tears and his adorable nose scrunched up, but not from laughing.

"I- I think I like you, Mr. Way. And I feel weird and disgusting for it too. And after you rejected me on Friday, I was really down." Of course, really down wasn't even close to how shitty Frank felt that day. And Saturday and Sunday.

"And, after everything, I still couldn't brush off my feelings. And even if you never felt the same, I know that I wouldn't be able to just stop liking you. You are very special, Mr. Way."

Mr. Way smiled. "Gerard." He said, his voice throaty from crying.

Frank blinked. "What?"

"My name is Gerard." He said with a little smile that exposed his adorable tiny teeth. Fresh tears filled his eyes, but they weren't from distress or panic.

Frank smiled to him too. Gerard's smile was something Frank wasn't sure he could live without.

"Nice name." He said. "It suits you."

The bell rang, and Frank had to go to class. He shot a final look at Gerard and he smiled again, and Gerard smiled too. Frank took a step closer to him, and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

"Bye, Gerard."

"Goodbye, Frankie."

Frank walked out of the classroom happily. As he approached his next class' door, he knew that he wouldn't learn shit today.

Chapter Text

Frank woke up on Tuesday morning with a smile on his face. The sun was shining brighter, the birds chirped happily, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. That was really unexpected since it was November already. But it was very much like Frank's mood.

He got dressed in his usual clothes. Long sleeve, t-shirt, skinny jeans, jacket, scarf, and gloves. He knew that even though it was sunny, it would still be cold outside. The sun has fooled him before, you see, and he returned home with a cold that day. He also put on his favorite battle boots. When he left the house, he realized he He was actually earlier than usual today.

He was almost the first student to arrive at school. The hallways were almost completely empty, unlike last time he arrived early. Frank's classes didn't start for at least 30 minutes, so what did he do?

He went to the art classroom, of course.

He really hoped Gerard was there, he honestly couldn't wait to see him after Monday. He wished he had art every day.

When he entered, he saw Gerard standing on a chair, hanging some projects made by students on the wall. Frank really wanted to sneak up on him and scare him, but there would be a high chance Gerard would fall off the chair. Although, he would be equally beautiful with a broken arm.

So he waited, hidden behind the doorstep, for Gerard to get off the chair first. When he was done and was back on his feet, Frank started tiptoeing behind him. Gerard was admiring his work, so it was the perfect chance to scare him.

"Boo!" Screamed Frank, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Gerard screamed so loudly, Frank was sure some windows birds cartooningly flew away from the building. They both laughed, and Frank kissed his cheek. He couldn't get enough of that.

"You little shit!" Said Gerard while he was still laughing.

"So, what are these?" Said Frank, poiting to the direction of the drawings on the wall. He was still hugging Gerard from behind, keeping his head close to Gerard's.

"These are some projects I told my student to make. The theme was 'nature'. Don't they look great?" He said, smiling as he looked at them again.

There were drawings of forests, fields, oceans, and even deserts. Frank would have to admit, they looked pretty good.

"They look awesome." He said eventually, burying his face in Gerard's hair. Gerard giggled.

"Hey, Frank?"

"Yeah?" He said, still burried in the ink waterfall.

"We need to talk." He said.

"Again?"

"Well, yeah. But we can't talk right now. The bell is about to ring." Said Gerard, slightly turning his head to Frank's direction. Frank let Gerard go from his arms.

"Ok." He replied, more coldly than he wanted to. Gerard frowned.

"Frankie, I'm not mad or anything, but I think a conversation really is needed before all of... this."

"Alright. Do you hate my hugs or something?" He said, trying to sound casual, but he felt like he was crushed beneath Gerard's shoe.

"No, not at all. I'm just kind of nervous, to be honest. I just want to talk with you, but we can't do that here. So I wanted..." He paused as if hesitating. "I wanted to invite you to a cafe. You know, to talk." He said, smiling shyly.

"Sure." Said Frank, and he couldn't help but smile too. "What address?"

Gerard walked over to his desk and grabbed a little notebook, its cover full of stickers. It had a large handmade caption on the cover: "Gerard's notes!". Frank thought it looked adorable, just like its owner.

Gerard ripped a page and wrote down the address, giving it to Frank with a smile. Beneath the address, it said "after school, Friday!" With a smiley face. It was like Gerard was a student, too. Frank wondered how old he was. He put it in his pocket, just when the bell rang. Frank looked at Gerard, and he wanted to give him a little kiss on the nose, but he didn't.

Instead, he just walked over to the door. As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Gerard still smiling at him, and Frank couldn't help but dorkily wink at him. Gerard giggled and took his seat, rearranging his papers to start the day.

Frank walked out of the art classroom. He couldn't wait to go to that cafe with him, maybe it would be their first date. It really depended on what Gerard wanted to talk about with him. Whatever it was, he was really excited to meet him after school on Friday.

Chapter Text

Frank couldn't wait for Friday to arrive. He and Gerard were going to meet in a cafe after school to talk. And even though he was very excited, he was also a little nervous. Last time they talked, Frank misread everything and thought that Gerard was interested in him, but was he really that stupid to think that?

Whatever the case, he had invited him to a (possible) date, and he was going to look his best. He was going to try to look decent.

When Friday's morning sun finally rose, Frank got out of bed vibrating with excitement. Even though he wore his usual clothes, he started searching his closet for nice clothes. After what seemed like years, he found a black button-up and black pants, which were good enough. He had no idea if the cafe was going to be something fancy or something, so the button-up and the pants were a choice that was in-between of casual and formal.

He had art on the fourth period, and he couldn't wait. It's not like he was going to talk to Gerard or anything, but seeing him was enough for him to be impatient and excited.

The other dreadfully boring subjects passed by faster than Frank expected. He was the first student to enter the class, aside from the teacher's pet. He hated her with a burning passion.

The teacher's pet. Lindsey Ballato. She looked so smug all the time, and even though Frank had to admit she was very pretty, she was very annoying, too. She was sitting at her desk, looking at Gerard, twirling a lock of her hair with her finger. She was like a pesky mosquito to Frank. It was very satisfying watching Gerard give her zero attention and instead turning to Frank.

"Good morning, Frank! I see you're early today!" He said, smiling warmly.

"Oh, for sure, Mr. Way." Said Frank with a smirk, winking dorkily at him. Lindsey looked irritated and stopped twirling her hair.

Frank took his seat and waited for class to start. Honestly, he wasn't in the mood for drawing. He couldn't wait for school to be over so that he could finally go to that cafe with Gerard.

"Okay, guys! Good morning. I have something special for today." He said with a mischievous grin on his face. "I want you guys to take part in an art competition!" He said happily.

Everyone chirped happily, some art kids throwing their hands in the air and cheering. Frank was happy too, but he was surprised to see people actually get excited for a school competition. Maybe it was the fact that Gerard was a great teacher and made people love art.

"So, I want you guys to draw something special. There's no theme or something, anything you want! You will give your drawing to me next week, and I will choose the three best artists to go to New York for the competition!"

Everyone cheered this time. Frank started clapping.

"And please don't be disappointed if you're not chosen, okay? They are very strict there, and I want to make sure we get the best drawings possible from our school. We might even win. Who knows?" He said, smiling too.

"You can start drawing right now if you'd like. If you're not going to take part in the competition, you can get some clay from the back and sculpt whatever you want!"

With that, he sat back down, and everyone got their things as fast as possible. Frank saw students wearing their aprons, some getting their pencils, and some even markers. Frank found it very hard to draw with markers, so he couldn't help but feel a little respect for them.

He got his acrylic paint and apron. Painting was his forte, so it was the best thing he could do. After a few minutes, he had the perfect idea.

He wanted to draw a realistic heart with an arrow. It was a generic idea, but he knew he could do something very cool with that. So he started sketching out the heart. It looked surprisingly good, and he wondered why he remembered how a realistic heart looked. He didn't put thought into it, and he sketched out the arrow. He also drew some blood-like liquid, more like goo, coming out of the spot that the arrow was stuck in.

He couldn't wait to finish it. He was going to try to make this his masterpiece. He wanted to get into that competition, after all, and going to New York to take part was pretty cool, too.

He really wanted to go since Gerard was going to be there.

Chapter Text

It was finally time. After school was over, Frank was the first person to run to the bus stop. The bus wouldn't come fast enough. When he got on the bus, he felt like it went super super slow. When he got off, he ran into the house, not even closing the door behind him. He immediately ran upstairs to shower. He had never showered this fast in his entire life. After he got out, he was so grateful he had already prepared his clothes.

He slipped into his pants and the black button-up shirt, and he ran to the bathroom again to brush his teeth. He looked in the mirror. He looked okay, but something was missing.

Ah, shit.

Makeup.

He tried to apply eyeliner, but it was shaky due to his nervousness and unstable hand. He abandoned the eyeliner.

So he put on just plain black eyeshadow instead. He put on some mascara and painted his nails black. He got his lip ring on, grabbed some money and his keys, and left the house.

Once he was outside, he looked at the paper Gerard had given him. The cafe was pretty close to his house, so he could go by foot. To be honest, he had never heard of that cafe.

Even though the wind was cold, and a button-up wasn't warm at all, Frank didn't mind. He was just too excited to care about that.

As he turned around the corner and started walking on the road that the cafe was at, he was faced with an adorable building. It had light purple walls with matching purple glass for the windows, a pink and white tile floor inside, and a "welcome" sign on the glass door.

When he walked inside, the cold wind was gone and was replaced with warmth, and the smell of sweets and coffee reached Frank's nostrils. He already loved this place.

He walked around a little, taking in the wonderful scent. He soon spotted a table in the corner of the shop, where Gerard was sat. He was patiently still waiting for Frank to arrive, as he hadn't spotted him yet. Frank made his way over with quick steps. When Gerard saw him, his face lit up with a smile.

"Hi, Frank!"

"Hey, Gerard." He replied, trying to sound casual again. Maybe he had to stop pretending to be casual in front of Gerard. It just looked awkward.

They ordered a cup of coffee each, and Gerard liked it black. Frank tried to note that to the back of his brain. They got their coffee and walked back to their table.

"Take a seat!" Said Gerard, motioning with his hand to the chair across from him, as he took his own seat. The chair had dark purple pillows and was made from walnut wood. It was soft and cozy, just like the entire vibe of this adorable cafe.

Gerard sipped on his coffee and looked at Frank.

"So, we need to talk."

"Alright. What's up?" Said Frank.

Gerard sighed and avoided Frank's eyes. "Um, I wanted to tell you something. Don't take it the wrong way, okay?"

Frank was nervous. He was definitely going to take this the wrong way.

"Okay."

Gerard tapped his index finger on the wooden table. He seemed just as nervous as Frank felt.

"I wanted to tell you that... isn't it too early?" Said Gerard, finally looking at Frank. Frank raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" He said. Gerard sighed and looked away again. He started looking around as if he was trying to find the words to explain.

"I mean, I like you, Frank. I really do." He smiled as he said that. "But we have known each other for some months, and besides... I am still your teacher. And I'm scared people will know if you... hug me at school."

Frank nodded. What Gerard was saying made sense, but he couldn't help but feel a little rejected.

"Okay." He said simply. Gerard frowned.

"Frank, I'm not rejecting you." He said, and Frank wondered if Gerard could read thoughts. "I'm just saying that I really don't want to get in trouble for dating you. It's weird!" He said, a little louder than he wanted. Some other customers gave them dirty looks, and Gerard sank to his chair, his face red. Frank laughed a little.

"I like you, Gerard." Said Frank. "And I don't care if we're weird. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know that I don't want to lose you. And I'm sure of it." He said as he placed his hand on top Gerard's. Gerard smiled.

"Alright. I trust you." Said Gerard, his cheeks a little pink. He looked so cute. Frank caressed the top of Gerard's hand with his thumb, as they kept dorkily smiling at each other.

"So no hugs, no nothing at school, right?" Frank broke the silence. Gerard nodded. "Yeah. But we can meet outside of school, if you'd like."

Frank smiled. "I'd love that."

Chapter Text

It was Monday again. Frank got out of bed with a huge smile and got ready at the speed of light. His date with Gerard had gone well, and maybe they could go out again. He was going to ask him today. He wanted to take him to his favorite Hard Rock cafe, and he really hoped Gerard would say yes. He was going to ask him at the end of class.

When he arrived at school, early again, he immediately ran to the art class. He peeked inside from the window on the door, and he expected to see Gerard preparing his things or hanging stuff on the wall or something. Instead, he was chatting with someone.

Lindsey.

Fucking Lindsey. She was annoyingly twirling a lock of hair around her finger again, fluttering her eyelashes as she listened to Gerard talk. Frank felt an urge to just go there and punch her in the face. But he just stood there, frozen, looking at Gerard casually talking with the most annoying girl Frank has ever met. So he walked away.

He couldn't be bothered.

If Gerard liked Lindsey so much, then who was he to stop him? Gerard might as well just give her a free pass to the art competition to New York.

Maybe he was being delusional, or overreactive. But when he sees him talking with Lindsey at such ease, he could only assume.

He went to the garden and sat behind a bush. It was the same bush he was hiding in when Gerard splashed him with water. He smiled when he remembered that.

He grabbed a pack of smokes from his pocket, his lighter, and brought the cigarette to his lips. After he lit it up, he took a long, refreshing drag. He felt dead. It was surprising how someone's mood could change so drastically in a matter of minutes. He took another drag.

When the bell rang, Frank didn't budge. He didn't care if he was late. He was always late. It shouldn't surprise Gerard at all.

But lately, he had stopped being late.

He let himself slip. He shouldn't have let himself go. It was Gerard's fault. He made Frank trust him.

But maybe he didn't even have anything to do with Lindsey, and Frank was just overthinking and assuming stuff that wasn't true.

He wished he was wrong.

After he was late about twenty minutes, he got up and put out his cigarette on the grass. He would've felt bad about that if he was in a better mood.

He walked to class with slow steps. Just like his first day at school, when he was on his way to meet Gerard, even though he didn't even know it.

He looked into the class from the window again. This time, it was filled with students drawing on their canvases and papers, some anxiously looking at the clock. Frank remembered that the competition was on the line. It didn't really matter since one of the spots was probably already full.

Gerard was sitting behind his desk. He wasn't working or grading papers or anything. He had his head rested on his palm, and he was sadly looking out of the window. Frank wondered why he looked so melancholic.

He walked into the classroom unbothered. When Gerard's lazy gaze spotted him, he immediately shot up from his chair. The whole class looked at him quizically, and he sat back down a little embarrassed. Frank had no reaction at all.

"Frank. You're here." Said Gerard, sounding relieved. A faint smile appeared on his lips, but Frank didn't reciprocate.

"Sure am." He said as he walked to the back of the class to take his seat. Gerard looked confused, but he brushed it off as he remembered he was in class. He turned back to the window, pretending he didn't care whether Frank was here or not. What a manchild.

Frank got his acrylic paint and brushes, and also took his painting from his backpack. He wanted to finish the painting as fast as possible. Maybe he still had a chance to go to that competition. But he didn't have that much time right now. The bell rang a little bit later.

Frank was once again the last student to leave. As he walked to the door, he turned back to look at Gerard. His face rested on his palm again, only this time his eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly open. He was sleeping.

Frank couldn't help but smile. He looked adorable. He walked over to his desk, leaned in, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Little did he know that a certain teacher's pet was still looming near there, peeking from the door window.

Chapter Text

Frank has always been one to love art. In multiple forms, too. He really liked drawing and painting, and playing the guitar for his band wa some of his biggest passions. And now, he had the chance to participate in an art competition, and travel to New York to take part. And of course, Gerard would be there. But he was worried about Lindsey, very worried. She was like gum stuck in braces, annoying and impossible to get rid of. Friday was approaching. Frank felt the pressure at all times, even in his sleep. It was Wednesday already, and he had to hand in his painting on Friday. That same night, he saw a terrible nightmare. Lindsey had won the competition and was receiving a giant golden medal, as she had a giant fake-ass smile plastered on her face. And the worst part, Gerard was there too, clapping and cheering for her. And when Frank tried talk to him, Gerard looked at him with disgust, and Frank became tiny and was crushed by Gerard's shoe. He woke up in cold sweat.

He had to finish that painting. He immediately got out of bed without a second thought. If he wanted to get rid of Lindsey, he had to finish that damn painting, and make it beautiful, too.

So he got to work. It didn't really matter that it was currently 3:40 am. He was going to make the best painting of all time no matter what.

He tried to be as quiet as possible as he searched his drawers to find his supplies. Once everything was ready, he took the lamp from the bedside table and put it on the floor next to him. Thankfully, that bedside lamp's wire was long enough.

He started doing the background first. It was going to be a sad, grayish, dark blue. He also added some red with it to make it more interesting. After he was happy with how it looked, he made a dark red color and added it as the base of the heart.

He continued adding all the base colors first and then moved on to shading. He was nervous he was going to mess it up, even though he was pretty experienced with painting. He couldn't even see that well because his only light was the bedside lamp on the floor. He pushed through, though. It wasn't even due tomorrow, but he wanted to be done with it as fast as possible so that he doesn't do it last moment.

It should've already been ready.

But the entire Lindsey thing had thrown him completely off. He hoped Gerard was only chit-chatting with her or something, and he knew that was probably the case. But he couldn't help but be worried, anxious, angry, and sad, all mixed together. Like the colors he was mixing right now. It was all a colorful mess that he was trying to control, but if he accidentally added a little more black than he wanted to, it all went to shit.

His brush strokes started becoming more short and sharp. He felt upset, and he didn't fully know why. His chest was in pain, his eyes felt sticky, and his throat was itching, like it was clogged with sand. He continued painting.

Lindsey was like a leech. She wasn't going to leave Gerard alone any time soon. Frank had seen many girls and boys hopelessly looking at Gerard but never making any sort of move. It wasn't appropriate for them to make a move.

Frank was different, though.

And so was Lindsey, apparently. If she wanted something, she was going to die fighting to get it. There was absolutely no way she was leaving them alone.

Frank's strokes became a little shaky and unsure. His palms were sweating uncontrollably. He tried to get rid of the itching of his throat by coughing on his palm, but it kept feeling weird and sweaty and sticky. He was showered in sweat, and his hair stuck to his forehead. It was winter.

His shaking hands dropped the brush. His stomach was twisting and turning. He needed some fresh air, and he needed it now.

He rushed out of his room to head to the bathroom. Maybe he had to vomit to feel better.

As he tried to reach the bathroom door, his head started spinning. He clung to the wall, trying to keep his balance. But it was overwhelming. He felt too numb, too dizzy. Everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Frank opened his eyes tiredly. They were really sore, and his vision was a little blurry. His entire body felt so fucking hot, yet he felt cold at the same time. He realized he was in bed, wrapped in blankets. He glanced at the clock. It was 4:50 am. He assumed that all of this painting he did was nothing but a dream. Yet, his stomach was still aching and twisting. He decided he could sleep it off.

The moment he closed his eyes, his mom burst into the room with a glass of cold water in her hand. She seemed a little shaken in general, and when she saw Frank awake, she was startled. "You're awake!" She exclaimed. She placed the glass on the bedside table. Frank immediately grabbed it and started downing it in hopes of soothing his aching, itchy throat. His mom sat beside him on the bed, looking at him in concern.

"So what happened, Frankie? I heard a thud, and I found you unconscious on the floor!" She told him. So it wasn't all a dream after all.

"Is everything okay, baby? Who do you feel?" She said, placing the back of her hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

"I'm fine, ma." Said Frank, trying to sound as calm and casual as always. He didn't want to concern her.

"But you're boiling!" She said as she removed her hand.

"I'll be fine."

His mom sighed. She pulled him into her hug. "I'll leave you rest now, okay? Call me if you feel dizzy again." She said as she stood up and turned to leave. "Oh, and Frankie?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't go to school tomorrow. You need rest, honey." And then she left, closing the door behind her as gently as possible.

Frank sighed deeply. His mom was right. He felt exhausted, even though he didn't do anything actually tiring. But he had to finish the painting if he was going to spend the day at home.

He drank the remaining water in the glass and set it back on the table. The painting easel and the canvas were still placed in the center of the room, right where he left them. The bedside lamp was still on the floor, and Frank noticed it was the only light source in the room. He got up to turn it off. He could never sleep with a light. It was bothering him.

As he stood up, he felt the remaining of his dizziness returning. He rushed to the bathroom, not fainting or anything this time.

He made it just in time, as he kneeled in front of the toilet and threw up. As he flushed, he realized he did feel better after all. He went back to bed.

~~

The bright light from outside burst into the room to wake him up. He opened his eyes slowly and indolently, his eyelids still feeling heavy from sleep.

His throat was the same way it was last night; itchy and sore. He stifled a dry cough into his palm and got up.

As he glanced at the clock, he realized it was pretty late. 9:50 am. It seems like he really needed that extra sleep. He made some quick breakfast for himself and sat down to eat it. Every time he swallowed the food, his throat felt more and more scratchy and irritated.

After he ate, he brewed tea. When he was little, he remembered his mom always made tea when he was sick. She always claimed it was good for the throat. It wasn't his favorite drink, but if it was going to soothe him, it was good enough.

He was bored. His cup was empty now, left in the sink. He was going to do the dishes later. Probably.

He was lying on the couch with the remote in hand. The TV always had the stupidest shows ever known to man. He shut off the TV, sighing. He wanted to sleep, and yet, he didn't really feel like it. He felt weird.

It was raining outside. Frank didn't mind rain, and he liked its funny smell. He finally stood up from the couch and went to open the window. He wanted some fresh air, and the house's atmosphere had started to feel suffocating.

As he opened the window, the smell of rain burst into the house, alongside the cold, winter breeze he needed right now. He smiled as the wind hit him in the face pleasantly.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, maybe longer, before heading to his room. He wanted to get to that painting. It was finally time to finish it.

He climbed up the stairs slowly, knowing that if he went faster, he was probably going to collapse.

The canvas was still in the center of his room. And so were his painting supplies. The brush he had dropped last night was resting on the floor with red paint staining the perfectly white carpet. He picked up the brush, hoping the stain wasn't too noticeable.

He got to work. His palette was resting on the carpet, too, so he grabbed it and went to clean it. It had dried colors all over it. Once he was back, he started mixing colors again. It was time to paint like never before.

Chapter Text

The painting was complete. It was afternoon when Frank set down his brushes and went to wash his palette with the look of satisfaction on his face. A small smile was on his lips. It looked perfect.

The canvas was filled with colors. The background was dark, with some specs of grayish blue. Like a sad night sky. There was a delicate hand holding the heart in the center, with an arrow stuck in the heart's thick muscles. There was black liquid with thick consistency everywhere. All over the heart, precisely in the spot that the arrow was in, and it spilled on the hand's fingers with grace. It almost looked beautiful, but it was still blood.

Frank was happy with how it turned out. It took him several hours to make it look so magical, so captivating. He was almost sure he secured a place in the competition. All he had to do now was hand it in tomorrow.

If he wasn't sick.

But it didn't matter. He could take a pill or something and drag his ass to school. Maybe he could get Lindsey sick. That would make his day.

He collapsed on the couch once again. Since the TV had proven itself useless, he didn't bother getting up to get the remote. He just kept laying there, with a thin blanket over him. It was on the floor for some reason, so he just took it and threw it over his body. He had left the window open, cold air bursting into the house. The chill that went down his spine was enjoyable.

~~

He had fallen asleep earlier than he usually does. The sickness came with tiredness, and he needed that extra sleep more than ever. Before he went to bed, he set his alarm back on to wake him up tomorrow. He was going to get in that competition no matter what.

He woke up to the alarm ringing loudly. It sounded more insufferable than usual, and it made his head ring unpleasantly. He shut it off before his headache worsened.

He got out of bed, his limbs sore and numb. He stretched and started getting ready. He was thankful his mom wasn't home right now. She would probably tell him to stay at home to rest. And she wouldn't be home until 9 pm, so he was going to be back before her.

He walked out of the house, wearing a thick coat, a scarf, and gloves. He was already sick, and he didn't want to worsen his situation.

He arrived at school right when the bell rang. He had art on the fourth period today, but he couldn't wait. He kept glancing at the clock, but time just wouldn't go by fast enough.

It was the third period, and he was in geography class. He was bored out of his mind, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

When the bell finally rang, signaling that it was time for recess, he immediately shot up from his seat and hurried to his favorite classroom. When he arrived, he stood outside the door. It was still recess, so he was a little bit early. He opened his backpack and took the painting out. It looked just as beautiful as it did yesterday. He held it to his chest and peeked inside from the window. Gerard was sitting on his desk, asleep.

Frank entered the classroom. Gerard immediately opened his eyes, looking more awake than Frank expected him to. He looked around anxiously, but his face relaxed when his eyes met Frank.

"Hi." He offered him one of his shy smiles.

"Hey." Replied Frank. He was holding the painting close to his chest so that Gerard couldn't see it yet. Gerard smiled.

"Are you going to come to the contest?" He asked, with his smile revealing his tiny, white teeth. Frank smiled back.

"I don't know. Only time will tell." He said, keeping the mystery alive. He walked to his desk and put the painting on the desk, waiting for the bell to ring. He didn't even notice when it did ring at some point, and students started bursting into the classroom.

He was zoning out. Lately, he's been paying a lot of attention in art class, never being late with handing in his homework and not talking back or anything. But today, his brain just couldn't focus on Gerard's soft voice.

It was always a pleasure to listen to him ramble about art, projects, and artists he admires. He was usually the only one listening to him in class when Gerard ranted while the whole class painted and worked. Sometimes, he would even talk about random things about his day. Like how he forgot his credit card at home or how his brother wouldn't pick up the phone. No one listened to him. No one except for Frank. But today, not even he could focus on the blurry figure before him. He felt like he would throw up any minute.

He snapped out of his trance when he heard Gerard finally bring up the contest. He offered the class his brightest smile and asked for the paintings. Nervous students stood up from their desks, all forming a line on front of Gerard's desk.

One by one, they gave him their paintings and sat back down, chewing on their nails, looking lost or anxious, or both. Frank even heard someone whisper a prayer. Suddenly, he felt anxious, too. Maybe too anxious. His stomach was doing unpleasant flips, gurgling and rumbling loudly. When he stood in front of Gerard, holding out his painting for him to take, Gerard looked at him concerned.

"Frank, is everything okay? You look as pale as a ghost." He said, his voice soft and soothing, as always.

Frank would have told him that everything was fine. He really would, but the moment he opened his mouth, vomit came gushing from his mouth, splattering all over the floor. The whole class went silent as Frank kneeled down, and the familiar smell of vomit filled the classroom. Gerard was sitting behind his desk, looking at Frank in pure shock. Some students stood up and went near him, concerned and wanting to help. Someone even handed him a paper towel.

Gerard stood up, too, walking over to him and helping him to his feet.

"I'm going to the nurse with Frank. I trust you guys to stay in your seats and not leave until the bell rings, okay?" The whole class nodded yes.

And with that, Gerard and Frank left the classroom.

Chapter Text

It was Sunday. Frank was in bed, too exhausted to even move a limb. He had a terrible headache, his throat was sore, and his eyes burned. He hated being sick.

On Friday, after he vomited in front of everyone, Gerard had taken his to the nurse. He was anxiously standing outside the door, chewing his nails, and constantly looking into the room through the little window. Frank had told him a million times that's he's okay, but Gerard wouldn't take no as an answer.

~~

"But Frank, you must be super exhausted after all of this fiasco! You need to go home right now unless you want to get worse!" He said, animatingly moving his arms around and emphasizing everything to its fullest.

"It's fine, Gerard. I literally puked one time, I didn't die. "He replied, giggling at how overreactive Gerard was.

"I don't give a shit! You are going home NOW."

With that, Gerard drove Frank home, even though he was still on the clock. Frank had told him that he didn't have to do that, but Gerard was a stubborn tightass and Frank didn't want to argue with him anymore.

~~

Frank smiled to himself as he was thinking about Friday. Gerard was just too sweet. Thankfully, Gerard had accepted his painting, and hopefully, Frank went to the competition. He wanted it more than anything. And he was pretty confident that he was the most skilled out of his classmates, so he wasn't worried at all.

And he did have school tomorrow and art on first period, too, but there was no way he was going to school tomorrow. He learned his lesson last time, so he wasn't ever going to go out without a coat at the very least.

Frank was pretty confident that he would make it to the competition. And the thought of him and Gerard going together somewhere that isn't school was a pretty alluring idea.

He stifled a dry cough on his palm and fell asleep. He did need the extra rest.

~~

The next morning, he woke up feeling terrible. His eyes were more sticky than ever. His throat felt like it was filled with sand and dust to the brim, his limbs were especially hard to move, and he had a terrible headache. And to top it all off, he already felt nauseous. Great.

He got out of bed with his arms and legs feeling like jello. He got ready as quickly as he could, all things considered. He wore a thick thick coat, with a jacket and sweater underneath, gloves, and his scarf. And yet, he still felt cold.

He arrived at school, let's say, a little bit later than he was supposed to. But that wasn't really a first, to be honest.

He walked to the door and knocked. He rarely knocked normally, but he felt too exhausted to even care about that.

"Come in!" Came Gerard's soft, melodic voice from inside. Frank smiled and entered the classroom.

He walked to his desk and plopped on the chair, throwing his backpack on his desk. His hands immediately reached for his pockets, for extra warmth.

"So, class, the results will be transferred to you by email, in about three days!" He said, his smile reaching his ears. "I chose three of you myself to take part in the competition, and I don't want any jealousy, arguments or anything like that, okay?"

Sometimes, Frank felt like Gerard had forgotten how old these kids were. They were seniors in high school, not some brats in kindergarten. But Frank couldn't help but smile at him, too. It was as if his lips had a mid of their own, and whenever Gerard smiled, they mindlessly curled into a smile, too. He didn't mind it.

~~

Three days passed, and just like Gerard promised, the results were sent to them. Frank checked his phone basically every minute of the day, and when the email was finally sent, he opened it with shaky hands.

He was confident, yes, but he couldn't help but feel some suspense as he opened the results. It would be the worst feeling in the world opening that email to find out that he had a very false idea of his skills. But he pushed his worries aside. He wasn't going to find out if he didn't open the message.

He tapped on it and...

He made it.

He was going to New York.

He grinned at his phone. He knew that he could do it. And he was very excited to win that competition.

Chapter Text

"Mom, that's really not that necessary..."

"Of course it is, Frankie! Do you want to catch another cold? I don't know about you, but I don't want my son wandering the streets of New York City with nothing but a coat!"

Frank sighed at his mom and walked to his room. He was packing for the trip to NY for the competition, and his mom 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 she made a thick woolen scarf and gloves for him. November was a cold time of the year, Frank admitted. But all of that extra warm clothing just felt a little... over the top to him.

He appreciated his mom's care, though.

Frank was excited and a little nervous at the same time. Last Sunday, he got the email about the competition, and just as he expected, he got in. Now, one week later, he still struggled to actually fully realize that he was going to New York for the first time. And with Gerard, no less.

The bus from Belleville took off at 9 a.m. tommorow morning, and he promised himself that he wouldn't be late this time. This wasn't school. It was serious shit and he had to be responsible about it.

He walked over to his suitcase and sat in front of it. He placed his hands on top of it, as if it was something precious, and peeked inside to make sure he had everything he needed. Jeans, sweaters, and some more formal clothes for the competition. He wanted to look decent for the occasion.

He closed the suitcase with a click and got up from the floor. He was trying to remember if he had forgotten anything. But he hadn't. Everything was in place.

He flopped on the bed and checked his phone. No messages canceling the trip, no emails delaying the arrival of the bus, no nothing. He sighed and set the phone aside.

Gerard was going to be there with him. He and Gerard were going together to New York. Frank and Gerard. Frankie and Gigi. Yes, it was because of the stupid school competition, but it was still a trip.

And they were going to go together.

Then again, he did feel a little nervous about that whole thing. He had never been to New York before. What if he did something stupid like getting lost or not bringing enough money, or 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯? He shivered at that. He knew that there was a high possibility that he didn't actually win, but he hated to think that he might lose. He had to win. He just had to. Gerard chose him. He had to win.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sudden pain on his thumb. He looked down at it to figure out what's wrong with it, and he realized that he was anxiously chewing his nails. That was a habit that he had subconsciously picked up from Gerard. Gerard chewed his nails all the time when he was nervous, and it seemed like Frank had started doing that, too. He looked at the broken nail.

𝙒𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧, 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙚?

~~

The alarm barely had any time to ring before Frank immediately shut it off. He had gotten thirty minutes of sleep, and it was still early. He didn't even have to wake up that early since the bus arrived at 9 a.m. But the alarm was set to ring at 6 a.m. Frank didn't want to be late.

He rubbed his eyes as he let out a long groan. He really wanted to go, but at the same time, he didn't. He loved Belleville, and trips were cool but not ideal.

Or maybe that was just his sleepy mind talking.

He got out of bed and glanced around the room. His suitcase was on the floor next to the closet, closed and ready to go. His room was mostly clean because he didn't want to just leave it in the tragic state that it's usually in. There was no clothing on the floor, no trash, and no scattered books everywhere. Everything was neatly in place.

Frank grabbed some random clothes from the closet and threw them on. His mind was still clouded with grogginess and sleepiness, but he managed to make his way to the bathroom, as if he was on auto-pilot. So he started actually getting ready.

When he walked out of the bathroom, a sudden wave of anxiousness washed through him. He really was doing this. He was going to New York to win a drawing competition. With Gerard. He got goosebumps. He didn't feel ready. He wanted to stay home. But he couldn't do that, obviously. Gerard had faith in him.

He shook the thought away, shoving it in the back of his head. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸. He grabbed his suitcase and walked downstairs slowly. Every step that creaked under his weight sounded very loud to his ears. Too loud. He felt like he was going to collapse. He really didn't have to wake up that early. He still had an hour and a half to spare, and the bus stop was four minutes away by foot. He could've gotten decent sleep.

But he didn't.

He spotted the gloves and scarf on the kitchen table, ready for him to take to the trip. There was a little note on top of them.

"Good morning, Frankie!

Don't forget to take those to New York City, okay? I don't know about the weather over there, so I want to make sure you don't freeze to death! I'm at work, sadly, so we won't get to talk until Saturday. Have fun! I love you.

Kisses, mom."

Frank smiled and took the scarf and gloves. They were warm, somehow, and made out of thick wool. They were both black. At least they fit his color scheme.

He sighed and sat on a chair in the kitchen, waiting for the time to pass by. He had never felt this tired before. He put the suitcase on the table and waited.

And waited.

Until it was finally time to go.

Once the clock struck eight thirty, he got off his seat, wore the scarf and gloves, grabbed the suitcase, and walked out of the house. He had everything. Phone, keys, wallet, luggage, everything was ready. He closed the front door, locked, and started walking to the bus stop.

It was very cold. He internally thanked his mom for her gloves and scarf because if he didn't have them right now, he would be freezing. He walked at a slow pace, as fast as his tired limbs could take him.

Even though he was half an hour early, as he walked closer and closer, he made out a silhouette. It was Gerard, dressed in a long, black coat, black gloves, and boots. His makeup was light and elegant, just simple black eyeshadow, eyeliner and blush. It didn't help with the paleness of his cheeks, though. His silky black hair was spilling out of the collar of the coat, the blue strand looking like a river with crystal clear water. He had removed one of his gloves and was chewing on the nail of his thumb anxiously. It was Gerard, after all.

He actually looked quite lonely like this. Standing at the bus stop alone with a distressed expression chewing at his nails, as he shivered from the cold. It was actually a little unusual how frequently Gerard chewed his nails. Frank had thought of this before, that he might have problems with his anxiety. They never really talked about it, though.

He started walking faster. Well, as fast as he could still. That feeling of loneliness that radiated off of Gerard was the most unpleasant thing in the world. He didn't want him to feel lonely anymore.

"Hey."

Gerard turned to him with a startled hum. His thumb trailed over his lips as he stopped relentlessly chewing on his nail. He quickly put his hand away and smiled faintly at Frank. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Good morning." He said as he wore his other glove back on. He must have thought that Frank didn't notice it, but that was far from the truth. They just stood next to each other, staring straight ahead. They weren't particularly staring into anything, though. Silence lingered between them, and it was the awkward kind.

Frank quietly looked at Gerard. His expression was cold and distant, lacking its usual glow. Frank noticed the bags under his eyes, that he had possibly tried to blend with makeup. But Frank noticed that it wasn't all makeup. His cheeks were paler than usual, and his hair looked more greasy than the last time Frank saw him. Observing closer, he noticed that he looked a little too serious, too exhausted. Something had happened, surely. But Frank couldn't find it in himself to ask.

The cold wind was hitting them right in the face. Frank felt like his heart had freezed along with everything else, but he kept his expression neutral. Everything felt weird. He and Gerard were standing here in the bus stop, not even looking at each other, both being awfully silent. It was like a sudden change of dynamic between him and Gerard. It felt more formal and more distant, even though nothing happened in particular to change that sense of relationship.

Frank heard footsteps approaching. He assumed it was one of the other students who got into the competition. As he turned his head to see who was coming, his heart sank.

Lindsey.

Fucking Lindsey.

His breath hitched, his hands clenched into fists and his shoulders tensed. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘎𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝙝𝙚𝙧. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯. He selfishly thought. Her black heels clicked against the sidewalk way too loudly for Frank's liking. She walked over to them and smiled sweetly at Gerard. Frank felt his stomach twist.

"Good morning, Mr. Way." She chirped happily, way too happily for a foggy and cold Monday morning. Gerard didn't answer. He didn't even look at her. Good.

Her smile dropped slightly, but was almost immediately replaced by another one, brighter than the last. She felt out of place here, as if she didn't belong in this moment. She didn't even belong in the competition in the first place.

She just stood next to Gerard instead of waiting for an answer, placing her fancy suitcase next to her on the sidewalk. She pulled out a vanity mirror from her pocket and started to examine her makeup. Frank felt a pang of anger bloom in his chest. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

Soon, the third student arrived. She was a freshman year short girl with dyed hair and large glasses. She was out of breath when she stood in front of them, as she started to rant about her broken alarm. Frank wasn't listening anymore. He couldn't. His ears were ringing, his breaths were coming out short and ragged, his head hurt.

Gerard's face stayed still as stone.