GERARD

Mistake number one: I had gotten to school early.

Mistake number two: I had decided to sit with Ryan and Andy in the cafeteria.

Mistake number three: I had acknowledged Frank’s presence when he tapped me on the shoulder.

When I turned around, I was reminded of the gorgeous eyes that haunted my dreams last night. “Ew.” Escaped my lips as a natural reaction to thinking about my enemy’s eyes for the umpteenth time that day, at the same time making me really uncomfortable.

I was legitimately concerned for Frank’s well-being because I knew how much he hated me, so if he was here to talk to me of his own free will, which I believe he was, then I knew something must have been wrong. He started stuttering, and despite how stupid he looked, I thought it was actually kind of cute. I unwillingly smiled a bit before realizing what I was doing and immediately wiping the stupid grin off my face.

He started to leave and that’s when I remembered that he probably has my sketchbook. I stood up and called after him, but he denied having it. I didn’t believe him for a second because after searching the entire school campus- twice- I still couldn’t find it and the only logical explanation was the Frank had it.

“Okay, that was weird.” Ryan said as I sat back down.

“Tell me about it.” I muttered.

“Hey, have you found your sketchbook, yet?” Andy asked.

“No, but I have a pretty good idea of where it is.” I answered.

“And where might that be?” Ryan questioned.

“In Iero’s possession.” I replied calmly. I was met by gasps. And then I realized just what that meant. That sketchbook was filled with pictures I had never let anybody see, and now the person that hates me the most in the world has them. This was not going to be good.

*****

First period rolled around and I knew I was going to get that sketchbook back if it was the last thing I did.

As people were coming in the classroom, they were automatically going to their seats and starting their projects. It was as if they were under someone else’s control, something I would have been happy to illustrate if I had my sketchbook.

I remembered that Frank and I did nothing yesterday, and realized that we kind of needed to exchange phone numbers and project ideas. As much as I didn’t want to, I felt as if my grade was more important than my hatred for the person next to me, and I asked him for his phone number.

“W-what?” He said, shocked.

“Give me your phone number.” I repeated.

“And why would I do that?” He asked.

“Because we need to keep in contact outside of class for the project, dumbass.”

“O-oh.” He said, not making an effort to give me his phone number. I cleared my throat, but he just glared back at me obviously annoyed.

“Your number?” I reminded him.

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Okay-“

“Please don’t say that in front of me.” I said calmly.

“Say what?”

“The F-word.” Frank stared back at me disbelievingly. “What can I say? I just don’t appreciate that kind of language.”

“I- I just,” Frank was saying. He had a dumbfounded expression on his face, blinking slowly as if to capture the stupidity he thinks he sees. “This is insane.”

“This isn’t insane, not giving somebody back their sketchbook is.”

“I don’t have your fucking sketch book.”

“Language.”

“What the fuck, Gerard?” Frank jumped back. I just sighed. “Why was your hand on my knee?”

“What?”

“Your hand was on my fucking knee!” I hadn’t noticed because it’s something I do subconsciously when I’m trying to lecture somebody. Great, first, I kiss him, and then I grope him. What’s next? Sex?

I started blushing and turned away. “A-anyways, we, um, kind of, have to, um, start the project.” I stuttered, looking down at the floor with my hair covering my face.

“Yeah.” He said and wrote down his number on a scratch piece of paper as I did the same. Our hands touched as he passed me the paper, and I almost didn’t want to let go of the complete contradiction that his hand was. It was rough and callused, yet soft. Strong, yet gentle. Warm, yet his touch sent shivers down my spine.

We started talking about what our project should be on, but neither of us could come up with a good idea, so we decided to use Mr. Hatcher’s suggestion of magnets. By the end of the period, I totally wasn’t enjoying our conversation, and I totally wasn’t wishing the period could last longer, and I totally wasn’t imagining Frank’s hands in mine.

Notes

I may or may not have been very bored and slightly inspired by my partner's writing. Here's another chapter for you guys! Comments are always a delight, so tell us what you think!
As always, Stay Alive, Sunshine.

-Bluebell