Surrender The Night (Frerard)

Frank wasn't entirely sure what Mr Way's aim was. He knew just as well as his teacher that most people in the room hadn't completed their requirement of taking notes, and he was planning to take his book home and spin out some bullshit to satisfy his teacher just like the rest of his peers. So why was Mr Way singling him out? It couldn't have anything to do with the weekend, could it?

God. Who was Frank kidding? Of course it was.

Frank was seriously beginning to regret not taking the beating. Bruises can heal and scabs can grow over and even broken bones can be fixed, but Frank was certain nothing could stop the current awkwardness that was emanating from his teacher, sitting cross legged on his chair watching Frank intently, except maybe an explosion and a few masked figures running in carrying guns. Actually, the thought of a school shooting did sound good right about now. Anything to stop ... This.

Frank sighed unintentionally, and then blushed bright red when he saw Mr Way's eyebrows raise. He just wanted out. Out of this classroom, out of this school, out of this town, out of this country. Frank didn't know exactly what he wanted but he just. Wanted. Out.

"So, Frank." Gerard began, trying not to smirk too obviously. "Would you mind telling me why you don't feel the need to complete the work I set you? Was I not clear enough in expressing, at the start of the lesson, that it was not optional?" He sounded stern, but Frank easily detected the hint of humour in his words. It gave him goosebumps.

"No. You were clear," Frank grated out through clenched teeth, and then seemed to add on as an afterthought, "Sir." He regretted it instantly, not meaning for it to sound as sarcastic as it did.

Mr Way seemed unfazed however, and was actually trying to focus on not giggling more than Frank's tone of voice. Quite honestly, he didn't care that he was being unprofessional. It was like ... like ... God, what was it like? Gerard felt like all rational thought was gone. He just wanted to act like he would have acted if he was a teenager, if he was a student, if he wasn't this kid's - this child's - teacher. He didn't care about the consequences anymore; the aftermath was secondary. He wanted to at least have a chance with Frank, and for it not to be tainted by the fact that it was highly illegal and disgustingly immoral. He just wanted Frank!

And there it was. The startling truth out in the open. Gerard wanted Frank. There, he said it, are you happy now God? Dammit, when did everything become so hard? Was it when Frank almost dented his door from knocking so hard? Was it when Frank stumbled through into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, allowing Gerard to clean his wounds. Was it when
Frank looked at Gerard, meeting his eyes and breathing out shakily? Was it when that breath blew across Gerard's hand and almost made him drop the bloodstained cloth? Was it when Frank...FrankFrankFrank. Gerard was sure he was crazy. Or sick. Or a criminal. Or maybe all three. Or maybe, maybe Gerard wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"Mr Way?" Frank asked tentatively, beginning to get a little uncomfortable with being stared at. The older man was obviously lost in thought, and Frank tried to tell his frantic heart that it was just a coincidence Mr Way zoned out whilst looking at him. Yeah. That must have been it.

Really, Frank just wanted to leave and go in search of Ray. He was pretty pissed off that he had to stay behind to complete the work that almost nobody else had done either. This was stupid. This was annoying. This was - holy crap, Mr Way looked cute when he blushed!

A slight pink tinge crept up Gerard's neck when he realised he'd been caught staring, and he hoped it didn't look like he was mentally undressing Frank. He vaguely remembered something about detention, and a documentary, and Frank needing to take notes, but at that moment taking notes was the last thing on both of their minds. They were both lost in their own little world and they needed to focus, like, now, before the other realised something was wrong.

"Was there something distracting you, Frank?" Mr Way asked quickly to cover his tracks, wincing at how horribly cliched that sounded. That was what all his teachers had told him when he was at school. He hadn't been the best student in school and after being bullied a lot, his teachers finally cottoned on to why he would never speak in lessons and why he kept one arm wrapped around his waist protectively at all times. 'Are you okay, Gerard?' they would ask, maki false faces of sympathy at the boy who just wanted to be left alone. 'You can always talk to me, you know.'

It had made Gerard sick, and now he had turned into what he never wanted to be. A hypocrite and a liar - and don't forget a paedophile.

"No." Frank said simply, his voice flat and emotionless. He couldn't believe Mr Way was being like this. Being so ... distant, after last weekend. Sure, he had picked on him specifically to stay behind, but Frank wasn't some mental patient in denial. It was like his teacher was afraid of mentioning it in case it 'upset' Frank, and Frank used the term 'upset' very lightly. The least Mr Way could do, Frank reasoned, was mention it.

"Okay." Gerard said, and the previous awkwardness settled over them again. This wasn't how things were supposed to be! This wasn't at all what Gerard had intended when he'd asked for Frank to stay behind. Granted, he wasn't stupid enough to believe that Frank would jump at him and that they would make out on his desk, but he hadn't thought it would be this uncomfortable for both of them. Gerard thought of just telling him to leave and complete the notes for homework, but Frank spoke before he could voice his though.

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" The words sounded shaky and nervous. Frank had decided that, screw it, if Mr Way wasn't going to talk about it then it was up to Frank to make the first move. "I mean - you haven't, you're not going to ... to tell anyone, are you?" Frank was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that question. After all, Mr Way had more reason not to tell anyone than Frank did, but Frank felt he needed to break the ice and get them onto a mutual topic that they could both agree on.

Gerard shook his head slowly, relieved his student had had the guts to speak first. The tension was just about killing him.

"I won't if you won't." Gerard said softly, loving the way Frank chewed on his bottom lip and sucked his lip ring into his mouth. The bruises were already fadi to a mottled blue colour and Frank had done well at disguising them, covering with make up and lining his eyes heavily so his black eye almost - almost - looked like eye shadow. All the same, there was a bruise over Frank's left cheek that Gerard was pretty certain hadn't been there when he left Gerard's house on Sunday. Had the same guys cornered him on the way home? Or was it different people?
How did the tiny kid seem to attract so much trouble?

Frank nodded gratefully, looking up when Mr Way rose from his seat. He sauntered around the classroom until he was behind Frank, leaning on the back of chair and peering over his head to look at his empty, save for the doodles, page. If he just leaned down a little more he could rest his chin on Frank's head...Jesus. His thoughts were going to get him in trouble someday.
Frank resisted the urge to cower as Mr Way leaned over him. He could feel his teacher's body heat radiating off him and Frank visibly jerked when the older man's breath blew onto the back of Frank's neck. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to be in the position. This position was quite nice. But ... couldn't his teacher see how dangerous this was? They were practically spooning - standing up and in a weird, awkward way that only half resembled a spoon - in a classroom, when the door wasn't even locked. Anyone could walk in and see them, and then where would they be?

'Stop, Frank!' Frank thought to himself. 'They wouldn't be anywhere then, because there is nothing weird about this situation! Mr Way probably isn't even thinking about how close we are, or how hot he is, or how good he smells, or how he came into 'my' room that night and said my name -'

"Your drawings are good, Frank." Gerard mumbled absentmindedly, forgetting himself as he leaned further over Frank. He tugged at the page with his fingers to get a better view of it. Without even thinking about it, because if he did he would most certainly have stopped himself, Frank turned in his seat so his forehead was touching Mr Way's stomach, and inhaled deeply.

Gerard froze, shocked. Frank was only thinking about his teacher's intoxicating scent and not the repercussions of his actions. Mr Way smelt like coffee and cigarettes and school and that really shouldn't have been so comforting or so good as Frank thought it was, but Frank really wasn't thinking. Frank really wasn't thinking as he buried his head in his history teacher's stomach and he really, really wasn't thinking when he tilted his head just a tiny bit upwards and placed a small kiss on Mr Way's shirt, just above where his navel would be. The reality of the situation all came crashing back to him, however, when Mr Way moved. At first Frank thought he was going to push him away, swallow nervously and tell Frank, 'I think you should go', but he didn't. Instead he placed a hand on the top of Frank's head, massaging his fingers through Frank's dark hair.

For about a second and a half Frank was too stunned to move, too stunned to breathe, too stunned to turn away, but then he was up and out of his seat before Gerard could even blink. He stuffed his book into his bag so hurriedly that he pushed it in wonky and couldn't close his bag but, unwilling to stay any longer to sort it out, he fled the room in a state of panic, leaving Gerard far too confused to stop him.

Notes

I think I'm beginning to develop a noodle obsession. What has become of me? <3