Falling In Love With A Teacher Is The Least Fun A Teenage Boy Can Have Without Taking His Clothes Off

I didn't dare open my mouth as Mister Iero led me away from the forest, from my box of rope, to, apparently, his house. I knew that if I did, that I would either break down crying or fly into a rage that he stopped me from doing one thing I really wanted to. He didn't speak either, but sometimes flashed me an occasional sympathetic smile. I gulped hard as we walked into a quaint little neighborhood, not far from the school. He led us to a small grey house. In the front lawn was dead grass and weeds, along with Halloween lights strewn across the porch. He let go of my hand and made a "follow me" motion with his hand as he walked up the few steps to the door. He pulled out his keys, but suddenly the door flew open.
"Frank, did you get my text--"
A tall, curly-haired brunette stood in the doorway. Wrapped around his waist was an apron covered in flour, yet streaks of white were all over his clothes anyways. He noticed me and cut himself off, making Frank- er, Iero, clear his throat awkwardly. "Uh, no I didn't." He went inside and I followed. "What did it say?"
"I, uh, I asked you if-" the other guy seemed uncomfortable or confused that I was here, frequently glancing at me from the corner of his eye as he spoke. "If you could get some cake mix for me?"
"What for?"
"Mine and Christa's anniversary cake...?"
Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. He went from sympathetic to apparently irritated pretty quick. God, I hope I didn't interrupt him from something when he came running after me. "Yeah, ok, I'll go out in a little bit. Just..." He looked around, eyes focusing on a door at the end of their hall. "C'mon, Gerard."
I followed him to said room down the hall. The door was the only one painted, black. The walls inside were a crimson red, the color of blood. One was covered in pictures of himself and other people, covered in sweat but still smiling. Another was posters of a band's shows, Pencey Prep. His shirt says that doesn't it? But there were enough posters to cover most of the red. Against yet another wall was just several guitars, music stands, and amps. He threw his bag onto the bed and walked into the connected bathroom. I set my stuff onto a chair in the corner, being careful not to knock anything over. I sat down on his squeaky bed, looking around at all the pictures.
He came out of the bathroom minutes later, all his piercings removed except for the black plugs. I took a moment to stop feeling sorry for myself to appreciate that he looked kinda hot. Fuck, Gerard, you can't call you fucking teachers hot! I mentally slapped myself. He muttered something like "I'll be back", grabbed his keys, and walked out.

Unsure of what to do, I began absentmindedly tapping my fingers against my thighs to a beat of a song I had been writing. "Welcome to the Black Parade", I called it. My eyes trailed over to the guitars propped up against the walls. Not even really thinking, I reached for an acoustic. I've been teaching myself how to play, even though I'm not very good. I checked to see if it was tuned, which it was, and began to play.

When I was a young boy,
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band
He said, "Son, when you grow up,
Would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?
Will you defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers,
the plans that they have made?
Because one day I'll leave you, a phantom, to lead you in the summer
To join the black parade."

I opened my eyes to notice a head of curly brown hair poking through the doorway. It was the covered-in-flour guy from before, smiling. I immediately began to hunch over, embarrassed that anyone had heard me. I'll admit that though I love music and dream of making it for a living some day, I'm extremely shy about it. He chuckled as he actually walked into the room. "Frank never introduced us, sorry." He reached out a hand. "I'm Ray. You are?"
I hesitantly shook it, muttering, "Gerard."
"Well, Gerard, I figured I should offer you a chance to make some cake?"
"I-I thought Miste-- er, Frank went out to get stuff for cake?"
He laughed, a laugh that made me smile a bit. He seemed nice. "I just needed him out of the house. He was supposed to be going on a date with a coworker but came home earlier than I expected, with you. He's probably mad about that or something, so I gave him some money knowing he'll go out and buy some cigarettes."
Fuck, he was on a date? I feel... terrible now.
"Anyways, c'mon, someone needs to lick the spoon and I'm on a diet."
*
He wiped his hands clean on the apron around his waist, smearing cake mix all over it. He sat down on the seat next to me at their kitchen island. "So, Gerard, why're you here? Frank doesn't bring people home often."
"O-Oh, I'm uh, I'm one of his students." I furrowed my brows together as I thought of an excuse better than, "I tried to kill myself". "I didn't have a ride home and... and he felt bad and took me here."
Ray nodded, though the look in his eyes told me he didn't believe me. But thankfully, he didn't press any further. "So, that song you were singing--"
"I'm sorry about that, by the way."
"No, no!" He smiled. "I liked it. What kind of music do you listen to?"
I couldn't help but smirk, knowing my answer would be a long one. "Well, uh, for one- Fall Out Boy. They're relatively new on the alt-slash-pop punk scene but I really like them. And then there's uh, another band that's labelmates with them, Panic at the Disco. And..."
Minutes later, I was out of breath from talking but beaming. I loved talking about my music, sharing it with others. He was smiling too, nodding along to everything I said.

That's when Frank came through the door. Immediately, the room was filled with the familiar smell of cigarette smoke. One hung between his lips, still burning. He smirked at us. "Gerard, can I talk to you?"
I nodded, hopping off the chair I was on. Ray got up and turned away, to check on the cake, as I followed Frank into his room. He didn't seem to care that I used one of his guitars, he just set it back on his stand. He sat on the bed and patted the space next to him. I flopped down and turned to him.
"Ok, so um" He sighed. "Sorry I was kinda mad earlier, I just-- I was on a date when you walked past us and seemed kinda in a daze and I... yeah."
The smile on my face dropped. "I'm sorry for interrupting your date."
He shook his head. "No, it's fine. Really. I work with her anyways so I'll be seeing her often. But what we need to talk about is the fact that you were going to kill yourself this afternoon."
I nodded as he stood up to close the door to his room. "Mister Iero, I really don't want to talk about it."
"There's a problem here if you're... what, 17?- and trying to commit suicide."
I could feel tears coming to my eyes. The only person I had ever talked to about this was Mikey one night when he was drunk off his ass. There's no way he even remembers it.
"You didn't want to go home because of Mikey," he said as he sat back down, closer to me this time. "What happened with him?"

I gulped. "He, uh... we got in a fight. And I brought up his drug use." I looked away, not wanting him to see me cry. "He basically told me that I should um, kill myself like... like everyone at school tells me to."
His eyes widened. "They tell you that?"
"You don't hear the whispers? 'Why don't you just off yourself', 'go home and slit your wrists', 'no one cares anyways'."
He reached up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear so I could see him. "Gerard, listen. I'm so sorry to hear that." He smiled sympathetically. "You can stay the night here if your parents are okay with that."
"They're never home anyways, so I guess I'll-"
I cut myself off as I felt his hand on my wrist, ever so slightly pulling the fabric up. I flinched and jerked my hand away, almost hitting him. I stood up and stepped away a bit, completely terrified. Fuck, was he... was he trying to see my scars? He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't.
"I'm going to bed now, Iero." I wasn't on the verge of tears not was I about to lash out, but I was surely upset. My body was trembling and my voice shaky and anything but firm.
His brows furrowed, into a look of complete sympathy. "Uh, yeah, okay." He bit his lip, looking around as if upset. I was the one who should be upset right now. "I'll sleep on the couch."
"Yeah, you do that."
He stood up and opened the door, glancing behind him before saying "goodnight" and shutting it. I flopped back down onto the bed, now feeling tears sting my eyes.

I fell asleep that night with tears staining my cheeks and my hands balled into fists, wishing for nothing right now but my box of blades.

Notes

i think,, i described frank in this fic as revenge era-esque but he's in pencey in this fic,,, ignore thAT
srry 4 the lack of updates. i've been trying to write but when i force myself to it turns out really crappy. so like. i'm trying to write only when i feel like it and when i have time. n ya
life update: in july i dyed my hair purple, in august i dyed it red, and now it's blue :') i saw fall out boy and pmore on monumentour and i was sore for literally the next week but i loved it so much i nearly cried. fob is my favorite band that's still together so yeah. um. i might be seeing and MEETING melanie martinez in november and i'm excited. i nearly started crying last night because girls are so cute and i'm so gay wtf
if you guys have any ideas for me for continuing this story pls tell me !!! i dont really know what direction i'm trying to go in for this so it's really appreciated.

xo