Pretty In Punk

“Hey? Hey, are you alright?”
Frank feels a hand grasp around his, and as he’s pulled to his feet, he meets eyes with the person he had collided with. It is a boy, but by a stroke of luck, it’s not the one from his gym class. Even luckier is the fact that the kid doesn’t seem angry at all, just worried. Frank nods, telling, “I’m okay.”
“Sorry, I didn’t see you coming,” the boy explains. “I’m wearing contacts right now and they’re kinda freaking out on me; I’m so used to glasses.” Sticking out a hand, the boy grins. “I’m Mikey.”
Frank accepts the handshake, replying, “Frank.”
“Are you a freshman?” Mikey asks.
Frank nods, returning the question, “Are you? I don’t think I saw you at orientation.”
Mikey blushes, confesses, “I’m a freshman, only, I was running sorta late this morning… didn’t really make it to orientation.”
Unsure of what exactly to say, Frank sympathizes, “That sucks.”
“Eh, it’s okay. I’m sure my brother will never let me hear the end of it, though,” he grumbles.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Frank tells. He pushes past, continuing to his car.
Josh is waiting, tapping his foot impatiently against the gravel of the parking lot. “About time!”
“Sorry, I got caught up in something,” Frank apologizes, unlocking the car. Josh gets in the passenger side, remarking, “I don’t know why you even lock this thing. It’s not like you have anything valuable in here.”
Frank glares at his friend. “You still want that ride, don’t you, Dun?”
Josh smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.” Frank is pulling out and leaving the school when Josh asks, “So what took you?”
“I met somebody new,” Frank replies.
Josh scrunches his nose. “You’re Frank; you don’t meet people.”
“Gee, thanks,” Frank scoffs.
“Boy or girl?” Josh asks. “Are they in our grade?”
Frank nods, telling, “Freshman boy named Mikey.”
“Oh, I totally know him,” Josh insists. “He’s in my art class, I think. Is he a wiry, pale, vampire looking type?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Frank answers.
“Knew it.”
“He seemed really nice,” Frank continues. “He’s a new student; I don’t think he has any friends. We should invite him over sometime.”
Josh dropped his jaw in mock surprise, pressing a hand to Frank’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
Frank laughs, swatting Josh away. “Get off!”
They arrive at Josh’s house to see that Brendon and Pete had beaten them there; the good parking spot is taken, soiled by Urie’s crooked parking job. Getting out of the car, they enter the garage, the old structure whose beams are already vibrating with music.
Pete is pounding away on the bass and Brendon plays the drums. It’s kind of an incomplete sound, but still cool. Josh doesn’t care though; he marches over to Brendon and shouts over the loud playing, “WHOSE DRUMSET?”
Brendon twirls a stick, flips Josh off, which Josh responds to by grabbing the boy by the front collar of his shirt, yanking him off the drum throne and onto the grimy carpet. The two wrestle around as Pete continues to pluck away at his bass. Frank watches the two overgrown children paw at each other; Josh currently has Brendon in a headlock as Brendon’s arms flail desperately around his friend’s middle. Frank, ready to start practice, peels his shirt off and grabs his guitar, slinging it over himself and playing the opening chords to Basket Case.
Pete joins in with Frank’s intro, which is enough to make Josh and Brendon pull away from each other. Hair a total mess and face flushed, Josh yanks his shirt over his head and onto the floor before coming in with his hi-hat, and Brendon makes rounds to his microphone, not only unbuttoning his shirt, but undoing his belt as well. He begins to sing the first verse, but by the start of the second, his pants are snaked halfway down his ass, revealing a good chunk of red American Apparel boxer briefs. After the song ends, Frank grabs ahold of his backing vocals mic, demanding, “Pull up your pants, Urie.”
Brendon groans loudly into his mic, grabbing the top waistband of his jeans and shuffling them up and down a bit. “It is more than a little warm in here. I need to air out.”
Pete gets his own mic, telling, “Brendon if you don’t pull your pants up, I’ll sever your dick. It’ll air out real nice then, huh?”
Grumbling to himself, Brendon complies, bringing his pants back to his hips. The group moves onto their next song, playing through about an hour and a half worth of material before calling the quits for the day. Josh retreats into his house and Frank and the rest split, each going to their own homes to work on homework. Pete and Frank are the only ones in the band who are taking the lower level math class their high school offers, so it only makes sense that Pete suggests they go over to his place and work on it together. Frank likes working with Pete; math on its own is frustrating and brings tears on occasion, but it’s more fun with Pete. He’d give anything to have the boy in his first period math class.
But today, he takes a rain check. For whatever reason, he’s not interested. He knows it’ll be a good time, but in the back of his mind, he can’t push away the feeling that he wants to be home, like, now. Maybe it was the bad day he had; threatening to have a body part broken can really take it out of you. So, he opts to go home, lying to Pete that he already finished the assignment and that yeah, Pete can copy down the answers in the morning. The boys all part ways, leaving Josh to his home as they all head for their own.
First thing Frank gets home, he sees that what looks like that Mikey kid has added him on just about every social media Frank has; Twitter, Snapchat, and Facebook. Frank adds him back; he figures that he could be good friends with the kid if he doesn’t pull a wildcard and turn into a major douchebag. As skeptical as he normally is, Frank doesn’t see that happening. He’s attracted to Mikey, not in a romantic way, but in a platonic sense that he sees Mikey’s angle and he appreciates it. Frank decides that tomorrow he’ll invite the boy to sit with his table at lunch. After all, he’s new at their school, and Frank knows from personal experience what a shark tank it can be.

Notes

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