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Words Mean Nothing.

Chapter Seven.

The last half hour of detention went by sickeningly slow. Frank was relieved that in his absence Gerard had fallen asleep, so he could easily slip is backpack from his desk and move to the opposite end of the room without being followed or harassed. In hopes of busying himself, Frank pulled out his notebook and read his notes on the French Revolution over and over, doodling guillotines on the sides of his paper, and crudely drawn puffy dressed french girl. He glanced up at the clock every couple of minutes hoping for detention to end.

Frank finally having a friend made him look noticeably happier to anyone that would glance at him-or maybe it was the fact he just beheaded his crudely drawn puffy french girl. Either way, he looked happier than he was earlier and that made the teacher even more concerned with why it had taken Frank so long in the bathroom. Although, it was against her policy to ask students why they took so long in the bathroom, she had half a mind to ask him. However, wanting to save the boy embarrassment she decided against it.

Frank had given up on drawing and was staring at the clock, waiting for it to signal the bell to ring. He had 5 minutes left; packing up his stuff, zipping up his jacket and scootching his chair back a bit, he had himself perfectly prepared to leave. He had spent way too much time in this hell hole of a classroom.

The loud screeching of a bell made everyone in the classroom jump. Frank held his laughter in when Gerard jumped and managed to slam his head back down onto the desk. Instead of making a snide comment Frank was out the door.

It was going to be a great night. Frank stopped at the bathroom where he'd agreed to meet Mikey. Sliding down against the wall he sat down watching people's feet pass him in the hallway waiting for Mikey to get there. It was when a pair of familiar black boots stopped next to him that he brought his gaze up.

Those black boots, those tight jeans, that grey tank top...that tomato red hair...

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