Frank's Point of View

When my alarm clock started blaring Black Flag at 6:10 this morning I was already wide awake. Today was the start of my junior year, and I was fucking excited. I had new, better classes that weren't given to the Freshmen or Sophomore's, and more than likely I had better teachers. There was one class that I was looking forward to the most, Art with Mr. Way. I don't quite know what it was that drew me to this class my Sophomore year, but it wasn't like I could do anything about it now, I mean I'm already registered into the class. Another thing that I'm a little nervous, and excited about is the teacher, Mr. Way. I didn't know him at all, but there were so many Juniors and Seniors I'd overheard raving about him, so I thought might as well give it a shot.

"Frankie, you up yet?" my mom asked on the other side of my bedroom door a couple of minutes after my alarm clock had went off.

"Yeah ma, I'll be down in a second," I replied as I searched through my closet for a shirt and a good pair of jeans. I wanted to look my best today in the hopes of gaining more friends. Deciding on a plain black t-shirt, and some blue skinny jeans, I pulled them off of their hangers while simultaneously pulling on the drawstrings of my pajama bottoms with one hand. I laid my clothes on my bed, and shortly aft I slipped both of my hands beneath the fabric of my pants, and slid them off, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud along with my boxers, I walked over to my dresser to take out a fresh pair of boxers. I turned back to my clothes once I had pulled my boxers on, and grabbed my jeans loosely. Once I had slid them up past my calves, buttoned them up, and pulled up the zipper, I took hold of my shirt before I slipped it over my head onto my torso. I smoothed out the crinkles on it out of habit as I walked over to my dresser, opening the bottom drawer, and taking out a pair of white socks. After I had put those on my feet and did the same with my classic Chuck Taylor's, I ran over to the side of my bed where my backpack lay haphazardly thrown there the last day of school in May of this year.

"Breakfast is ready honey," my mom announced just as I was finishing up applying a thin line of eyeliner around my eyes, and then I was on my way downstairs in the direction of the kitchen where I assumed my mother was. Once I arrived there she had a plate of toast along with a glass of orange juice on the counter where I was supposed to sit, and my mom was already busy cleaning up her own dishes. "Well I have to go sweetie, the boss wants me to be there early, so have a good first day of school, and I'll see you when you get home after school," my mom stated as she walked over to me, and gave me a kiss on my temple before she left me to be in the house by myself.

I had a bit of OCD, so when I polished off my toast, and orange juice, I had to clean my dishes before I left for school. When that was done, I picked up my backpack from on top of the counter, made my way out the door, locking it up as I went, and headed for my car with my keys at hand.

The drive to the school from my house was humble, and quiet aside from the soft music playing through my speakers. Over all, it was nice, and I indulged in it as much as I could until I arrived at the high school where teenagers were scattered around, stumbling about dumbly. Most of the kids here were like that, pot-heads basically, because they thought that they had nothing better to do than to get high, which isn't true, we're only a couple of hours away from New York, but I guess kids here are either too lazy, or they don't have a car nor friends who have cars to drive them there. I'm glad that I've never gotten into any type of drug, except for tobacco, but I'm not really worried about that.

I parked in my designated spot in the school parking lot, cutting the engine of my car, and opening my door in order to step out of my car, but I couldn't really do that considering there was a pair of converse clad feet in front of mine, preventing me from standing up completely. I looked up from the shoes, and was met with the smiling face of Jamia Nestor.

"Hey Jamia," I spoke, flashing her a fake smile as she took a few steps back, and let me get out of the driver's side of my car, a light pink blush adorning her cheeks as she did so. I've known Jamia since my freshman year, and she's a sweet girl... just not really my type, in fact none of the girls at this school are my type, unless they have at least a 7 and a half inch dick and no breasts. If you guessed that I'm gay, then you're correct. I've never liked girls, well I have, but more of in a friendly way than anything, but only my mom knows what my sexuality is. I planned on keeping it that way too.

"H-hi Frank," I heard her stutter out when I opened the trunk of my car, after I had closed the driver's side door, and got out of my car. I grabbed my backpack, which had some school supplies in it already, out of my trunk before I closed it as well, and pressed the lock button on the fob used for my car. I looked back over at Jamia who was awkwardly standing by my car, her hand holding the strap of her black messenger bag while the other was wrapped around her waist nervously. As we started towards the school I hoped and prayed to myself that Jamia wasn't actually thinking that I liked her in the same way that she liked me. If that was the case, then I was definitely screwed.

Notes

Hello all! I'm new to this website but I am not new to writing frerard, it is one of my all time favorite OTP's. But I hope that everyone enjoys this story as much as I do. Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you'd like. :)

xoxx ~Frankie Boy.