Thursday brought a whole new set of problems for Frank, such as how he hadn't bothered to do the English homework his teacher had set him or how his band - consisting of Frank, Ray and an angry asshole who beat the shit out of the drums called Bob - hadn't had a gig for at least a month and Frank's money supply was running low. He hated borrowing cash off his mother because he knew she didn't have much anyway. All the nice things she had at the moment had been bought her by Daniel, and now he was gone she was struggling to even pay the bills. If Frank asked, he knew his mom would give him however much he asked for, but he still felt terrible taking and not giving anything back except attitude.

Mrs Iero had been trying to find a job ever since her split from Daniel, with little success. She had managed to snag the night shift at a 7/11 store down the road from the school but her hours were odd and she had become sort of nocturnal, sleeping in the day so she would be able to stay awake during her shift.

Frank knew it was really time to intervene when his mom stumbled down the stairs Thursday morning, stressing that Frank needed to get to school before Daniel woke up so she could make his breakfast for him. It took Frank a whole ten minutes to talk his mother down from her panic so that she remembered that Daniel no longer lived with them. He convinced her to take the day - or the night - off and decided it was time for him to get a real job. Screaming into a microphone on stage in a dank, dirty club was fun, sure, and it didn't pay too bad, but gigs were far and few between and what with school - for Ray and Frank - and university - for Bob - they hadn't been able to get hired for a while.

So yeah, Frank had a lot of problems before he left for school on Thursday, but none of them worried him as much as the question of what he was going to wear.

Today was the day, he decided, that he would sort things out with Mr Way. He would either give in to Mr Way's teasing - and open himself up for rejection and humiliation if it turned out he had been wrong about Mr Way wanting him - or he would seduce Mr Way himself.

It was with this in mind that Frank picked out a pair of black skinny jeans - tight enough to show off his legs but not so tight as to prevent him breathing, because he was pretty sure passing out was not an attractive feat. Next came the shirt, and Frank picked a plain white t-shirt that clung to Frank's chest, showing the dark stains of tattoos across his back, chest and stomach. If you looked close enough, you could even see the swallows peeking out from the top of Frank's jeans.

Frank's school had a no make-up allowed rule - claiming that 'you are beautiful as you are' - but that rule was about as popular as Frank was in middle school, so Frank raided his mother's bathroom until he found the eyeliner and mascara. It wasn't the first time he wore eyeliner, he usually applied it when he went on stage to perform, but it would be the first time he'd worn it to school, and he could already imagine the reaction. Ray would laugh and tease him about wanting to impress someone, people who didn't even know Frank would look at him and call him a 'fag', probably laugh at him, but there was only one person's reaction Frank cared about.
He didn't know if Mr Way was into eyeliner; maybe seeing Frank doing something so blatantly obvious as to wear make-up would make him realise what a mistake he was making, but hey. You don't know until you try something, right?

Frank waited twenty more minutes for Ray to pull up outside his house until he couldn't wait any longer, and he pulled his phone out and sent his friend a text.

Where are you?! Gonna kick your ass if we're late again.

Almost immediately a reply pinged back and Frank fumbled to grab his phone to see what had been sent.

Sorry, something came up, you're gonna have to walk. And as if you could take me in a fight, I'd knock you out midget.

Frank growled in frustration when he read the text, making a mental note to stick gum in Ray's hair the next time he saw him; it would be entertaining watching the guy try to get it out of his fro without causing himself pain.

Frank forgot to grab a jacket when he stepped outside, so he really shouldn't have been surprised when the rain started, what with the weather they'd been having lately, he should have expected it. Still, what with Frank's shifty immune system and the constant, heavy rain that soaked him through to the bone, he was shivering and his lips were blue by the time he arrived at school.

Just as he was about to walk in through the school gates, he got that feeling again, like the time in the park when he skipped school. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his arms got goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold or the rain. Someone was watching him. Frank turned around and scanned the surrounding area, but couldn't see anyone. He was late, so there was no one else walking to school, and everyone else was staying inside due to the rain. There was no one there; but Frank knew - he just knew - there was someone watching
him. He shivered and walked inside.

***

He was given a detention in English for not having completed his homework, and he was mildly grateful for that because at least it gave him somewhere to be other than outside in the pouring rain. He hadn't seen Ray all day and despite calling him and texting him several times, he had received no reply.

He had caught several people shooting him weird looks throughout the day and it was only when his chemistry did a double take when Frank walked into the classroom and then coughed awkwardly, trying to pretend he hadn't been staring at Frank, did Frank remember he was wearing eyeliner, which was probably smudged and smeared all over his face by now due to the rain and Frank's habit of rubbing his eyes when he got nervous.

Despite Frank's attempts to stay out of the rain, he had no choice but to walk outside to get the the history blocks as they had been made seperate from the rest of the school a few years ago. They were a row of wooden huts a good five minutes walk from the main school building that were meant to be temporary when they were first built, but the school had never got round to building new history classrooms. So of course, Frank was soaking wet and late when he arrived in history.

Not that Frank was complaining. Well, he kind of was, because he just knew he would get sick from this, but he actually thought the rain made him look better. His white t-shirt was see through and sticking to his skin, making his tattoos even more visible. His hair was dripping wet and matted to his face, giving him the appearance of just having stepped out of the shower. He had dark make-up smeared around his eyes and it contrasted startlingly with his pale skin. He chewed on his lip ring nervously as he stood outside the door. He could hear Mr Way addressing the class inside and knew everyone would turn and look at him when he opened the door. He had to look confident when he walked in so, taking a deep breathe, he plastered a smug looking grin on his face and hoped nobody would see through it.

Frank was right; everybody did look at him when he opened the door. It was deadly silent for a few seconds, and when Frank turned to look at his teacher, he was pleased to see Mr Way's eyes were wide and he was quite obviously checking Frank out. He saw Mr Way's eyes flit to his stomach and the older man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
The boy moved to sit down, but when he looked at his seat he realised someone else was already sitting there. He turned to Mr Way, confused, losing his previous confidence.

"Ah, Frank. We thought you weren't coming so we let Brendon here have your seat."
There was no explanation as to who Brendon was or why he was in the class, so Frank assumed he was a new kid. He shot Frank a somewhat apologetic smile which Frank returned happily - he wasn't about to be rude to someone who might want to be his friend. He looked cool enough, with brown hair flopping over his eyes and a black t-shirt with a logo on that Frank couldn't quite read.

"Why don't you sit down here, Frank." Mr Way suggested - but it was more like a command - gesturing to a seat on the front row. Right in front of his desk.

Perfect.

Frank couldn't pay attention throughout Mr Way's introductory speech; he found himself watching the older man for signs that he was looking at Frank. There were a couple of times where Frank would look down deliberately and then look up again quickly, catching Mr Way looking at him before turning his head quickly when he saw he'd been caught. Frank smirked, glad his efforts were working.

However, once half an hour was already gone, Frank began to feel mildly horrified that Mr Way hadn't come over to his desk and asked if he needed 'help' like he had been doing for the past three days. It was Frank's last lesson of the day - of the week - and if he couldn't get Mr Way in that time he would be left worrying all weekend, so Frank decided to step up his game.

He waited till Mr Way was looking at him and then he very obviously slipped a hand under the table. He placed it on his thigh and started rubbing it, moving his hand up and down very slowly. To any of the other students, it would just look like he was scratching his leg or some other innocent move - he wasn't about to start jerking off in class - but because Mr Way's desk was pressed up against the first row of tables in the classroom, he wouldn't be able to see that it was in fact his leg Frank was touching, and it wouldn't look so innocent.

He locked eyes with Mr Way, who was once again looking awestruck, his eyes so wide Frank was surprised it didn't hurt, but when he knew for sure his teacher was watching, he let out a quiet little moan, covering it up with a cough. To the students, it looked like Frank really was coughing, but Mr Way would see the coughing fit as it really was: a cover up.

Frank, growing bolder and bolder as he saw Mr Way's grip tighten on his pen and his breaths became more laboured as he didn't take his eyes off Frank, went as far as to throw his head back a little bit, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his leg faster. He had to stop this pretty quickly because the people next to him were shooting him weird looks that probably weren't related to his make-up this time, so instead of exposing his neck tattoo again, Frank let out a long breath and stilled his hand movements, knowing what Mr Way would think of this. He had to say, he almost laughed when his teacher almost choked on his breath and stuttered out,

"Frank, can I speak to you after class, please?"

After that, Frank kept his head down until the bell rang, signalling the end of the day. He was grinning to himself all lesson, but when the bell rang he really thought about what he'd done. He'd faked an orgasm in class to get at his teacher. What if he had been misreading the signs all along and Mr Way wasn't into him like he'd thought? What if -

Frank didn't notice everyone in class leave until it was only him and Mr Way left in class. He didn't notice Mr Way getting up and locking the door. He did, however, notice when all this had been done that he was in a locked classroom all alone with his insanely attractive teacher who he may or may not have pretended to jerk off to. And now said teacher was looking at him as if he wanted to kill Frank. Or fuck him. Or possibly both.

Just when the silence got to be so awkward that Frank was on the brink of saying something, Mr Way moved before he could even open his mouth.

Notes

So yeah. I hope my mother doesn't read this. <3