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Words Mean Nothing.

Chapter Three.

Frank watched the clock like it was a pot waiting to boil-and the saying was coming true. It was never going to ring for him. The boys fingers traced the indent on the top of his desk where a pencil was supposed to go. Back and forth, back and forth. He had been sitting next to his enemy for what seemed like years. All he had to do was trace the pencil indent and listen to the faint scratching of Gerard's pencil as he doodled.

Frank's biggest hatred was for Gerard's artwork. Whenever he went to the schools 'Scholarship Artshow' for the 'Art Honors Program' he would be forced to look at the tomato headed bastard's exhibitions. His artwork made Frank feel all the emotions that Gerard was trying to convey and that was what Frank hated most. If only he was able to do something like that, the poor boy had nothing to convey his emotions to the world. Nothing to cry for help with-Gerard had it all. Frank only had his guitar, and Frank was mediocre at best only being able to play about 8 chords and the beginning to "I Love Rock & Roll" by Joan Jett & The Black Hearts. He wasn't good at all.

"See something you like?" Gerard whispered, noticing that Frank was staring blankly at his doodle. Frank not even realizing he had shifted his gaze focused on Gerard's doodle taking it all in. Etched deeply into the paper where ornate designs that were so beautiful it was all Frank could do to stop himself from gawking. Gerard's voice ruined all the feelings Frank now had inside him. "I didn't know fags had a sense of artwork."

"SHHHHHHHHH." the two stared up at the frizzy haired detention teacher and immediately quieted themselves. There was a quick crinkling of paper and in seconds Frank was staring down at the opposite side of Gerard's drawing.

Like I was saying, see something you like?

Frank flipped the paper over and stared back at the paper, examining it closer. He took in every difference in shading, and pencil stroke before flipping the paper back over. Frank longed to know what was behind the drawing, but, instead of asking scribbled:

Why should I care about what you draw? You already know you're good. Why else would you write on the opposite side of something you spent so much time on? Not to mention the drawing clearly states that you have issues.

Gerard laughed. The sound sent chills down his spine, and cause the teacher to shoot daggers at the two again. The scribbles occurred again, longer this time. It was long enough that Frank decided to comfily nest himself within his messenger bag again. Soon the sharp corners of the paper was being pushed into Frank's wrist in hopes of being picked up and opened. Frank ignored it only to be shocked when the paper was shoved down the back of his hoodie, Gerard's cold hand brushing against his back giving him goosebumps. Great, now Frank was even colder.

Frank retrieved the paper out of his shirt sending Gerard a dirty look. Before even reading Gerard's response he scribbled down some really offensive messages about how cold Gerard's hands were and if he ever did that again what would happen to him. After deciding he had taught Gerard enough words he proceeded to read what the bastard had written.

Oh, Baby. I love it when you're harsh.

Finally having enough and getting offended by Gerard's fake sexual remarks he wrote back:
Motherfucking tomato headed bastard don't make me barf. Fuck off, or I'll shove a rake so far up your ass you'll taste it with your brain receptors.

Frank. Was. Pissed. Who wasn't he to be? His father took his life only days before because Frank was gay and now Gerard was fucking around with him? The poor boy had nothing left and Gerard's sick immature comments weren't helping him.

Gerard let out a laugh under his breath, making Frank feel even more uncomfortable.

Baby, having you as company makes this detention so much better. You know exactly how to turn me on. Let's say we get a beer after this? Whatchu say faggot?

Frank's eyes began to sting as he read Gerard's note. He couldn't take anymore. Pushing Gerard's desk away from him, and excusing himself to the bathroom with the teacher he jogged down the hallway towards the Boy's bathroom.

He was right, today was his day.

Comments

@WelcomeToTheMarmalade
Sitting alone in 2016 crying because i love this and all the good fanfics are old

*sitting in 2015 alone and crying tears of pure loss because all my favorite fanfics are ancient*

Wow!! Sequel definitely needed!!! (; Xx

sequal?!

frankenweenie frankenweenie
5/9/14
Soft simple tears began t trickle down the young girls face as she read the ending words to her newly acquired addiction. The words seemed to swarm and melt around her mind like the coffee she seems to stitched to. With the words coursed around her mind she started to beg, plead, anything for another story about her hero's. No words came inside her head, no words of greatness shot through her mind but eight... 'This is my Gerard and I am Frank Iero.'
BatteryBomb BatteryBomb
7/31/13