“You know,” my principal began with a sigh, throwing a manila envelope down on his mahogany desk. “Given your recent criminal record,” he looked at me sternly, “I could have you thrown in prison under assault charges.”

“Do what –“

“Shut up, Gerard.” The burly man interrupted my to-be cocky remark. I was shocked by his complete neglect for his typical polite manner of speaking; the man left all sense of professionalism behind him. “I am frankly sick and tired of you. Now listen up.” I sat still. “I wish I could throw you into jail, and get you the fuck out of my hair, but Mr. Iero did not press any charges, nor would he allow you a suspension. It boggles my mind, however I will comply with his wishes. Do know,” he leaned over his desk and got so close to my face that I could smell his cigar-scented breath. “I will not hesitate to kick you out of this school if I get so much as a passing complaint about you. You are free to go to English now. If I were you I would praise Mr. Iero.”

“As if he needs more of that,” I mumbled as I stood up, earning me another deadly glare.

I didn’t understand why Frank wouldn’t milk his injury to get me in the most trouble as possible. He was either looking to hold it over my head, or he was just scared of what I might do to him. I didn’t want to find out.

I walked through the hallways mechanically, suddenly bothered by how well I knew my surroundings;
I had inhabited this building for three full school years. I’ve always had a sort of problem with familiarity, it just bothered me that there was an entire world to walk on, and I knew the complete layout of a school as well as the architect did. It was too easy to mindlessly find my way to Mr. Burns’ classroom before the Tuesday morning bell rang.

I threw my rucksack-style bag noisily onto the ground beside my usual seat and sank down into it, with my eyes fixed on the ground. My teeth sunk into my chapped bottom lip, and my eyelids blanketed my orbs, hiding reality away from my view.

“I’m not mad at you, Gerard.” Bob’s deep voice threw the blankets off my eyes, and I slowly turned my head toward him. “You had every right to hit him.”

“I shouldn’t have.” I said, my voice wavering. I couldn’t pinpoint where this weird rush of emotions was originating from, but I didn’t like it one bit.

“Dude, I would have punched him. He was being a fucking dick.” Bob’s calloused hand landed on my shoulder reassuringly.

“Bob…” I began, unsure of what I needed to say. I felt as though something was coming out of me, something that I couldn’t control.

“What is it? Gerard, are you alright?” The husky boy’s voice rose in concern for my apparent emotions. I couldn’t answer him though, because I didn’t even know what was happening within me. Was this what they meant when they said that being a teenager was confusing? If so, this whole uncontrollable emotion shit was coming a little late in the game.

“No,” I mumbled. “I’m sad and I’m scared. Like a goddamn little girl.”

A singular tear rolled down my face as the bell chimed. Where was this all coming from? I got my answer as soon as a five foot tall boy took the last remaining seat in front of me, making eye contact with me on his way down. His left eye was a sickly shade of purple-green from where I had hit him yesterday. Frank.

I couldn’t read any sort of emotion from his eyes or his face, but I desperately wanted to know what he was thinking as our eyes tangled up in each other, unwavering in their contact. Another tear escaped my lashes and trailed down my cheek, with several more threatening to follow. Frank furrowed his brow, obviously confused at my despondent emotions.

“Don’t cry,” he breathed, his voice soft as satin. I looked nervously around for his friends, fearing their sneers, but they all seemed to be ignoring the situation, even Bob was occupying his attention away from us. I looked back at Frank who seemed to have remained still, looking at me worriedly, while I was scoping out the scene around us.

The back of Frank’s pale hand rose to meet my face, and his thumb stretched out to gingerly wipe away the half-dried tear on my cheek. My skin tingled from his uncharacteristic touch, and his eyes widened at the realization that he had just comforted me. Quickly, Frank swiveled around in his seat and attempted to pay attention to Mr. Burns, leaving me to process what he had just done, which wasn’t going to be easy. Would you know how to feel?

Notes

Chapter Title - "Second Hand White Baby Grand" from the show Smash.

Okay. This chapter is shit. I'm sorry. I like can't write worth shit anymore, and I'm getting really frustrated at my self. :/

I don't know why I'm even posting this crap.

Idk when I will update again.

I'm sorry. I still love you all.

xobunny