Gerard was always looking up.

Frank noticed that the moment he nervously plopped his bottom down on the cold metal chair next to the boy. Gerard's head was pointed towards the ceiling, a peculiar expression stilled on his pale, pasty face. Of course, he could have been sleeping, whist with his mouth agape and his eyes shielded with a pair of sunglasses. Frank sank in his seat, legs itching to pull up, so he could curl inward, get smaller, lessen his presence. Lessen his being, his burden. He did not want to impose.

His new partner was Gerard Way, a quiet person. Quiet person meant Frank would be okay here. Gerard was taller than him—but everyone was, especially with his terrible posture. Greasy, dyed raven tresses mopped over a white face, clothing matching his hair. The hands in his lap were red, splotches of paint, Frank thought. Frank hoped.

"Hey. Hey. Hey, faggot." Something whacked the small boy in the back of the head. "Fag. Fag. Fag!" Frank closed his eyes, tightening his fists so that his fingernails could cut into his skin, somehow providing a smidgen of relief. Pain; he realized when scrunching up his eyes so hard he saw flashes of colors dance across the darkness that was the back of his eyelids. A comforting hurt, tipping at his palms, while the rest of his being could be inflicted in the most horrible of ways, leaving scars and wounds you could not heal, only let strike again and glance as they reopened, fresh once again, and not; simultaneously.

His new pain came in the form of a thick skulled peer, and his mindless followers. They were laughing in a fashion that twisted into the pink shell of his ear, twisted viciously in cycles and never ending circles, spinning with jeers and taunts. It maddened him to think this was his goal everyday: stay away, stay silent, and above all stay together. Falling apart always seemed so tempting when your life was reduced to keeping it all in and attempting to throw it all away.

"Fag."

Frank studied the fraying laces on his shoes. This class was an interesting one, to say the least. The school hadn't had enough funding to allow it to be the art class it was meant to be, so it was now it would be a writing class, supposedly. Frank had heard the stories though, that dear old Mr Brooks had done something with a student; but Frank dismissed it. Mr Brooks had been a great teacher, and Frank was sad that he went. Saddening to think; their former art teacher, ready to teach, to help, just to be dumped off and forgotten while his classroom would be emptied of its contents, along with the memories.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Frank swelled with a near pitying amount of happiness thinking about his neighbor, Ms Dalton, sweet old lady who often liked to talk in puzzling proverbs. She would call Frank sugar or honey and Frank liked it, since he had never actually gotten those privileges of pet names, given his current situation—the one he did not like to speak about. With Ms Dalton's blue hair and her crinkled eyelids, and at the reminiscing conversations glimmering blues sparkling in her eyes, a relic of her younger self—she reminded Frank of his grandmother. She was kind and didn't judge Frank like so many around him. She cared.

"Look. The fag's thinking about sucking his boyfriend's dick again." a snide snort to match a snide comment, followed by echoing cackles rang off the now blank walls.

It wasn't new. The old kept coming back—bad more than good.

The boy watched with wide eyes as the substitute tried to raise her voice to settle the class down. In a form of retaliation, the volume increased and the teacher's meager words were drowned in scrambled noise. The sub was a small little thing, about the same height and build as he himself. An easy target to play with, take down and over. She held many of Frank’s qualities, now that he thought over it a little more.

Gerard was still staring at the ceiling with this look in his eyes, something mixed in bewilderment, awe, frustration and something else Frank couldn't place. The red smeared hands tapped fingers on thighs, a beat something fast and unevenly timed. The boy had his mouth quirked to the side, a half way smile of some sort.

"Class... Class... Please..." The words somehow did not drown in the sea of noise, the unneeded sounds of little girls and boys. Gerard grinned.

Somehow, without the sub noticing a wild haired pale boy taking small, confident strides across the room; Gerard made it to the huge window, which was, at the moment, open. He grinned even wider, and Frank noted his tiny white teeth. In a commotion—though a smooth and agile action, he leaped atop the black counter which hung off the east side of the classroom wall. Frank gasped, and in the running time of which he twisted his head to call for help, a girl screamed.

"He's going to jump off the second floor!" The girl screamed, eyes bugging out and hands clapped on her cheeks. She was hyperventilating, and in a matter of seconds she fell to the floor from lack of oxygen. Frank disliked the weak; odd, considering how weak he himself was. While the girl had fainted, desks had scooted, people had stood and dashed over to the counter, Gerard still grinning manically, standing back first to the outside, sunglasses blocking his eyes. The subs yells were once again drown in the tittering of the students.

"Why is he jumping?"

"Gerard! Don't do it!"

"Jump already, you art fag!"

"Why didn't he do this about three months ago? We would've still had our art class if he had."

"He's going to die."

"He's not gonna die, relax."

Frank glanced over the sea of his peers, a boy catching his eyes. He was skinny and had brown spiky hair, and had his brows furrowed at the scene, a frown that was barely there, only the slightest curve downward on his lips. Frank watched the boy gaze on Gerard; who looked up, one last time, towards the light blue sky, the brief puffy clouds that littered the otherwise perfect canvas. He took a deep breath. The black haired boy met the skinny boy's eyes, where his lips moved, and mouthing words for that boy and that boy only. The more observant kids in the crowd took in the exchange as well.

Gerard darted his eyes to Frank. He smiled, before removing his glasses. Frank took a sharp intake of breath, shaking on the exhale. Why was he looking at him? Gerard blinked. His eyes were the most unusual color; a hazel with green and gold flecks near the pupil, a border of chestnut looped around the outer edge of his iris. It was... beautiful. Frank tried not to have a heart attack when he saw Gerard lips moving, for him and him only.

I am so sorry...

Without another word, without another action, Gerard fell backwards into the air. Frank felt like all the breath in his lungs with forced out, and he lurched forward, bumping into a girl. He apologized absently, and looked onto the window where Gerard once stood with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Everyone was doing something, screaming, cheering, laughing, shuffling awkwardly, but mostly they were staring. It might’ve been overly romanticized in Frank’s mind; he was aware of his exceeding perceptiveness. The sub was calling 911, tears slipping from her eyes. The girl who had passed out had evidently regained conscienceness and was now sobbing as if she had known Gerard; and Frank knew for a fact that she did not. Frank did not do anything. He was frozen.

He felt something … snap within him. Like something, maybe someone had been pulling this rope in two different directions, pulling and pulling until the rope just gave up. Frank’s knees buckled. He stared at the smooth tiles of their lab, the patterned of spring green and white. He raised his head, looking straight, at the many legs mucking about, the bare one and the uniform clad ones.

He looked up.

Notes

This was originally posted on Ficwad. Also posted on Wattpad. Thoughts, please? Thank you for reading.

-S