Star-crossed lovers.

"So, why do you think I'm a weird kid?" Frank wondered, glancing up at Billie Joe as they walked down the sidewalk away from the brick building, which he had flipped off the moment he leapt from the threshold.
Take that, you sunnuvabich.
Billie looked at the shorter boy, smirking wryly. "When you see a short boy covered in tattoos and piercings walk in and gape at a bunch of creepy pictures in awe, you tend to make assumptions," he said, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. It was relatively cold for an early August day. Enough so to send a shiver up Frank's spine.
The tattooed boy nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I guess I can understand that. At least you got it right!" he laughed, doing the little finger-gun motion at his friend. Billie snorted but didn't comment further on the topic. Why comment further when you have all the proof you need, and a confession to boot?
Billie Joe watches too many crime dramas.
The taller boy pushed open the door to a family owned shop called Mike's Diner, letting Frank duck under his arm (there wasn't much ducking involved, per say) with a mumbled "Thank you". As they shuffled to a booth in the back, they spotted a tall man in the kitchen who looked in desperate need of a buffet. Frank made this thought known, receiving a quiet chortle in reply.
"So, where did you move from?" Frank lifted his eyes from the menu, raising his eyebrows.
"Why do you think I just moved here?"
"You followed me the entire way here, like you didn't know the area," he replied, placing the menu in the little rack on the table.
Frank smiled bemusedly. "You're pretty observant, huh?"
"I watch a lot crime dramas. Over the years, I've modeled my behavior after the detectives." Billie Joe glanced around, then gestured to the waitress. "She's dating someone here, probably an employee. See how her name tag is crooked and her skirt is pushed up."
Frank stared in amazement for the third time that day, smiling and letting out a breathy laugh. "Man, that's cool. I wish I could do that," he murmured, glancing back down at the menu. Coffee it was, considering everything else was some off-brand pop that tasted terrible.
The waitress glided over, smiling sweetly at the two friends. "Hi, I'm Janice. What can I get you?"
"Two coffees, please," Billie said before Frank could open his mouth. He stared at the dark-haired boy in shock; he was too good. Janice nodded with a smile, sliding back over to the order window, where a red-head popped up and grinned at her, nodding as she relayed the message. He was right; no surprise there, Frank thought.
"Well, to answer your question, I'm here from New York," he said, playing with his jacket zipper.
Billie nodded, saying, "I've been up there. Waterford, actually. Real nice place, pretty close to Alexandria Bay."
As their coffee arrived, the boys launched into a discussion on boats, the pros and cons of ferries, the existence of Faerie -- which both agreed would never leave that booth -- , William Shakespeare plays, drama class, and then it turned to their new favorite, eccentric art teacher.
"The guy's pretty nutty, huh?" Billie said, sipping his second cup of joe.
Frank stared out the window thoughtfully. "Aren't most art teachers kind of out there?" he asked, turning back to his friend.
"Well yeah, but how many of them have a morbid fascination with Death?" Billie pointed out.
Shrugging, Frank replied, "Probably none, but it's sure to make this an interesting year."
"It will be an interesting rule, won't it. I look forward to fifth period now," Billie chuckled, gazing out the window like Frank had just moments earlier.
Frank didn't reply, instead gazing down at his mug. Billie Joe was right; this year would be extremely interesting. He wanted to know what made Mr.Way tick. Why he seemed so entranced with something as overly-romanticized as Death. Why he was so proud of his work. Why he seemed so confident with himself, yet so humble when asked "Why?".
And that's when Frank made his resolution. Before the year was up, he was going to worm his way into his art teacher's head. He would have the answers to all of his question. And he would not stop until he knew the "because" to all of the "why"s.

Notes

I'm having New Year's Day flashbacks. I forgot to make a resolution this year.
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-Stitches