Gloves

The story of how he met Gerard was an unfortunate one.
Frank stretched gingerly and stepped lightly out of bed, dancing over to the shower on cold tile and hardwood. He turned it on and, while waiting for the temperature to rise to a steamy heat, looked it the mirror. He was not really disappointed with his appearance, but he held no pride in it. Amber, almost yellow eyes, a sharp bone structure, and long brown hair all came together to create decent looks. He did not find himself extraordinarily good-looking, but he knew he was not ugly.
When fog started collecting on the edges of the mirror, he stripped and stepped into the shower, washing himself quickly as to save hot water for his mom. Contrary to popular opinion, hot water is not an unlimited resource in an average American household. He pulled on his typical ansambel of a t-shirt and jeans, shoving his feet into his sneakers and hoisting his backpack over his shoulder.
His mother, a relatively young woman with eyes the color of grass, going by the name of Juliet, was already in the kitchen, reading a Poppy Z. Brite novel and sipping a mug of sugar-infested coffee. She smiled warmly in greeting and continued skimming the lines of the paperback.
Frank poured himself a mug of coffee, sans the sugar mountain, and snatched a banana from the fruitbowl. He finished quickly and, after bidding a farewell to Juliet and his former dog’s grave, started the brief trek to school. Rather than calling it ‘Belleville High’ like the rest of it’s population, he referred to the cement and linoleum based building as ‘Purgatory High’.
Purgatory High was a relatively large institution housing New Jersey’s future criminals and finest villains. It served as the breeding ground for all things wrong and illegal in the town of Belleville, New Jersey. The building itself gave off an ominous vibe that was reminiscent of an old mansion in any horror movie anyone had ever made. Every town had one, including Belleville, but that was beside the point.
As Frank reached the school gate, he reveled in the fact that Bob and Ray would not arrive for another for another half an hour -- nor would anyone else, for that matter -- and he would be able to wander on his own and gather his scattered thoughts. He walked around the school hallways slowly, casting his eyes around the walls, letting his thoughts wander.
And then he slipped.
He let out a particularly girlish yelp when he hit the floor and scrambled up, looking frantically at the dark blue substance he had slipped in. It had the consistency of water and the color of Liam Neeson’s lips in The Grey.
With an utterly dumbfounded expression on his face, Frank followed the small blue drag marks to the locker room, where he found a black mass standing near the back, rubbing a towel over it’s head with glove-clad hands. And it looked up.
Ethereal red eyes met amber. They held an emotion similar to distrust and anger, which was seemingly directed at anyone within a thirty mile radius of the black-haired boy. Aforementioned hair was sticky and plastered to his forehead.
“What?” he snarled, his lip quirking up at the side.
“Um, what’s that?” asked Frank, pointing to the drops of blue liquid leading up to him and pooling around his feet.
“Gatorade.”
“That’s...why?”
The boy sighed and continued scrubbing his hair. “The football team find Smurfs funny.”
"Do you, uh, want some help with that?"
"...no thank you."

Notes

I'm baaaaaaaack!
Well, I wasn't gone so long, but ya know.
This story will be a bit more intense that my last one, so have fun with it. I'll be posting again soon. Please enjoy, my loyal readers.
Comment and subscribe and shit.
-Stitches