All of the Stars

There's a difference between having your world crash around you. It's a weird feeling, the difference being the fact that it's not your life beginning. Starting up. I can say that both of those things have a similar feeling, almost spot on. But the toll, is completely differed.
I felt like my world was crashing down around me when Mr. Iero had spoken that sentence. The sentence that put everything together and stitched all the weird things he'd done in the past week. Glancing. Picking me for everything. Unessacary compliments. Always smiling at me.
He was right. It was unrealistic. The world around me was completely fucking unrealistic in that moment. Out of all of his students, he decided to tell me this. The one student that actually preferred men. The one fucking student who didn't know how to react in a situation like this without mentally flipping their shit. The one student who didn't give a rats ass about his pointless existence.
I hadn't been looking at him throughout his whole episode of talking, I had no reason to. As soon as I had sat on the edge of the stage next to him, I had the deepest feeling that something like this was bound to fucking happen. I have a sixth sense. My mom said it was an artist thing. Of course I'd believe that. Everything is 'an artist thing' to me.
Yet, in that moment, my mind was more jumbled than it had been in years. There's no proper way to even describe what was going on physically and mentally inside my body. I certainly didn't feel well, physically. I felt fatigued and dizzy. I thought for sure I'd pass out at least. And mentally, God my mind was a fucking war zone. The words as guns booming louder than anything I could comprehend.
Words. I didn't know how to use those properly without saying something stupid right in front of Mr. Iero. I shouldn't have been worried about saying something stupid when he'd just about ruined himself with what he had told me. I could feel the heat radiating off his body from where he was sitting next to me. There was no way he was calm.
He took one of his shaky tattooed hands and raised it to his forehead, rubbing it with his thumb and pointer finger. "I don't know why I said that. This...this isn't right Gerard, you should go there isn't...I can't...I'm so sorry for all of this, I can't get you transferred out of my class if you're uncomfortab-"
His voice. His stupid fucking shaky voice that sounded like thunder in spring rain, it wouldn't shut up. I needed to think. "Shut the fuck up."
"I'm sorry-"
"Stop apologizing." I was probably coming off more standoffish than I was intending to be, but this was wrong. Beyond wrong. Uber wrong. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that this was exceptional in any way.
"This is pathetic." He kept repeating. "Fucking pathetic."
"It's fucking pathetic that you won't shut up and let me think for two seconds."
"What is there to even think about?" His voice was raised now. He jumped off the edge of the stage and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He let out a groan. "You should be freaking out. You should be screaming, telling me that I'm a pedophile. You should threatening me and telling me to get away from you. This isn't right. Stop thinking. There's nothing to think about."
"Is that what you want me to do?" I asked harshly. "Do you want me to freak out?"
"No-"
"Do you want me to call you a pedophile?"
"No."
"Do you want me to threaten you?"
"No."
"If you really admire me as much as you think you do, you'd know that I'm not the type of person to cause fucking scenes over things that aren't a big deal."
He froze and looked up at me. It was then that I noticed his eyes were red around the edges, I didn't want to think that he was about to cry. "Not a big deal?" He spat. "Not a big deal?"
"Yea. That's what I said." It was a big deal. On the inside my head was swirling with questions on how to approach this situation. It was already a miracle how i'd kept my chill for that long. I should have been disgusted. I should have run away and fucking exchanged schools all while reporting him to the school department. But of course, I didn't.
"This isn't real." I muttered. I didn't even know what I was saying.
"What?"
"The chances of this happening are so slim." I challenged.
"I, I mean yeah, I understand if you're scared or you want to leave, you should leave-"
"Stop saying you understand." I spat. "Just stop saying everything you're saying. This is just...how in the fuck? Out of all the people in the world you chose a seventeen year old boy. Not just any seventeen year old boy, your goddamn motherfucking antisocial, asshole student."
"I know I just-"
"No. You obviously don't know. If you knew, you wouldn't have told me what's actually going on inside your head. Do you realize how dangerous this is? It's dangerous that I'm even talking to you right now."
He froze. "Why...why dangerous?"
"You seemingly have a thing for young boys." I scoffed.
"I would never act upon it without consent, Gerard." He had said that like he was offended, as if I'd hurt his feelings. What was there for him to be offended about? He was clearly the one in the wrong.
"This is too much for me to fucking take in." I sighed and tangled through a knot in my hair.
We didn't speak. Mr. Iero was a good two foot distance away from, I was thanking god for that gap of space.
"You can report me." He whispered. It was barely a whisper, his voice was clear and on the brink of a whisper.
"I'm not going to do that." I said.
"You have every right to."
"Yeah. I know. But I need a reason. It's just, this is so...fast. I don't know you. You're a fucking teacher, Mr. Iero. I fucking call you Mr. Iero. I don't know your name. I don't know how old you are. I don't know anything about you. I pray to god that you don't know anything remotely personal about me."
He closed his eyes. "It's wrong."
"You're right. It is wrong. It's...just bad, on so many levels."
"It's tragic. Awful. Hell, it's horrendous." He laughed bitterly.
"How did it happen?" I asked bluntly.
"What?"
"When did this sudden feeling start and how? I just, I want a reason before I decide to go fucking apeshit over this."
He took a deep breath and twitched his fingers. "I knew there was something about you the first time I saw you. Not when you were fifteen, hell no. I thought of you as just a kid back then. I had no interest. But fuck-, Gerard. When I saw you, sitting in that seat on the first day of this class, I couldn't breathe. Not in a bad way either, I just felt my body physically shut down. There was just something about you, you seemed like you didn't give a fuck but you were so caring enough at the same time. No matter how hard you try to hide your soft side I know it's in there. God, the first time you ever smiled in this class, i felt like someone set off a firework in my stomach."
"I'm not following." I told him. "How do you ultimately decide to like a seventeen year old of nowhere? It doesn't make sense in my head. How did me sitting in a chair-"
"Listen, I wasn't interested in you like that at first." He replied.
"Um, oh?"
"That feeling didn't come until last week. When you sang. You sounded so beautiful. You looked so beautiful. I couldn't help it and I know it's creepy-"
"Beautiful?" I asked.
"That's what I said."
Warmth erupted all over my body. He thought I was beautiful. The teacher who I didn't give a shit about thought I was beautiful, he thought my voice was beautiful. I don't think anyone else but him had ever said that to me.
"Gerard, you don't get it."
"What don't I get?"
"How fucking incredible you are. Ive seen your art in the hallways, it takes my breath away. Your mind is so intense and complex." He sounded winded, and somehow amazed. "I'm not attracted to you because...because you're a teenager, because you look young. I'm attracted to your intellect and your talent and what I've gathered from your personality. But I know you're sad, it's written all over your face. It hurts me. I want to help you in any way that I can."
I shook my head. "What's your name."
"Huh?"
I rolled my eyes. "Tell me your name. This can't go anywhere if I don't know your first name."
"What do you mean 'go anywhere'?" He squinted his eyes at me.
"You'll find out after you tell me your name."
He hesitated. "It's Frank."
"Frank Iero." I mumbled. I watched as he picked a piece of fuzz off his cardigan, scrunching his nose a little when he flicked it onto the ground. I wasn't sure how I felt, but I did feel different as I studied his face. His skin looked soft, so fucking soft that I wanted to run my fingertips over the pale
pigment of it. His eyes were big and bold with thick eyelashes that complimented his face perfectly. His face was feminine in some aspects, but boyish in others. My thoughts immediately ran to the idea that he had such great bone structure. I wanted to draw him. Over and over again. I wanted to paint the emeralds in his eyes and sketch his upraised cheekbones.
That was the point where I went into denial. I couldn't be attracted to him. He was a man who was at least ten years older than me.
I'd been in two relationships before, I couldn't handle them at all. If i couldn't handle people my own age, how was I going to handle someone who was ways older than me? Why was I even thinking about having a relationship with him? He never said he wanted that. I never said I want that.
The wisps of his dark hair fell right under his brow bone, he pushed them away thoughtlessly and looked over to me. Our eyes made chilling contact.
"I shouldn't hold you here any longer." He said bashfully.
I ignored him. "Do you want me to call you Frank when we're alone?"
He smiled softly. "I'd be okay with that."
"Good."
Frank. I liked that name. I couldn't imagine any other name suiting him or his personality. "That's a french name." I observated.
"French and english." He corrected.
"I thought it was italian."
"I did too."
Frank looked away from me, but my eyes remained on him. If i decided to let myself have feelings for someone like him, a teacher, an adult, it could end up in a shitshow. But chances were a thing I wish people would give me, and I could tell that all Frank wanted was a chance. I was freaked out, of course. I was scared but so calm at the same time. It was messy, but it was raw. It was natural human emotion.
He eventually looked back at me, raising his eyebrows. "You're staring."
"Yeah."
"Why."
I stood up, grabbing my messenger bag from the floor and slinging it over my shoulder. "I'm an artist. When I see art, I see a meaning. That's why I'm staring, Mr. Iero."
I walked out of the auditorium, knowing I left him in a scramble to find words.

Notes

this isnt as long as i usually like my chapters to be and its mostly dialogue but i mean hey theyre finally talking shit out fuck this is so slow xx