Mr. Way - Frerard

I dragged my hand through my tangled, coal black hair. I'd just dismissed my last class of my first day teaching art at Belleville High, which was a rowdy bunch of freshmen students. My mind wandered back to first period, as it had frequently throughout the day. Frank Iero, that lock of hair that swooped down and curled, those vibrant eyes that seemed to be all colours at once.

'No, Gerard' I told myself. 'He's a student, you can't think of him like this.'

I left the classroom, locking up for the day. Making my way out of the labyrinth of a school, I barely took note of my surroundings. However, a deep groan of pain met my ears, and my head snapped up to find the source. A young man was being punched in the stomach by two guys. I rushed over to help him. Upon seeing me, the two bullies fled. 'Cowards' I thought.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked the student, putting my hand on his shoulder. He was doubled over in pain, and when he straightened up, I saw who it was.

"Fine," gasped Frank Iero.

"Come on, I'll get you a drink," I said, leading him back to my classroom. He came willingly, still clutching his lower abdomen. Once we got there, I unlocked the door and let him in first. I walked over to my desk, pulling a bottle of water from a draw. He took it, sitting at my desk whilst I leaned against it.

"Who were those guys, Frank?" I asked softly.

He shook his head. "Nobody. It doesn't matter."

"Does this happen a lot?" I looked into his enchanting eyes, and he looked back into mine.

"I guess so." Frank shrugged.

"You shouldn't stand for it, Frank. I know that's easier said than done, but you should stop them." I offered my advice, which I knew was the worst he could receive. I slapped myself mentally. He tapped his foot on the floor. I leaned down to his height, tilting his chin up. His eyes raised to meet mine. "If you ever need somebody, I'm here."

As I realised what I was doing, I sharply withdrew my hand and stood up, facing away from him.

"I should get going, I-" Frank started, looking anxious. I nodded, understanding his reasons for wanting to escape – his teacher just near enough made a move on him, of course he’d want to run. He got up and hurried out of the room.

I slumped onto a chair, rubbing my temples. I was sure he felt something towards me, and I knew I felt it back. But this couldn't possibly happen.

'I'm his teacher, not his friend' I told myself. 'But he obviously doesn't have any friends, shouldn't it be my responsibility to be one to him?'

I groaned, leaving my classroom once again, planning to grab a coffee. I couldn't act on my feelings. I couldn't get close to a student, especially one as special as Frank.

Notes