Pointed Occurrences (Frerard)
Better than.
Frank Iero had strode into the hallway of Bellville High on the first day of school like he owned the place, confident that this year would be his best, and thank Satan his last. The corridors still smelled like the pink wood shavings they used to clean up the Freshman’s puke from Cardio II, and the tiles still shoe scuffed, because obviously, a whole 96 days of Summer isn't enough time to actually clean the fucking place and Christ it really, really, wreaked in here.
“Bob, my main man! How’s it going?” Frank smiled deviously, as he fist bumped the taller blond boy leaning against the rusty locker. Bob just scrunched up his nose in disgust, and waved his hand a little bit.
“Eh, could be worse, Ray’s been blabbing about the one new teacher though.” Frank raised his eyebrows, as in like What the actual fuck, Ray? “Apparently every girl in the school, and uh, Christa too, are drooling over him.”
Frank chuckled into his hand. “Leave it to the Fro to start obsessing over a new teacher, a guy teacher. No wonder Christa has been ignoring him.” he just rolled his eyes, and Bob opened his locker to pull out a Gatorade. He opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang. ‘See ya,’ they called after one another, and Frank headed down the west corridor for Algebra III because apparently, two hours a day, of Algebra II in Junior Year wasn't enough.
“Fuck Block Schedule, this sucks massive dick.” he muttered under his breath, quietly, or not because, well-
“And so do you!” Some massive asshole shoved Frank into the orange wall, his buddies laughing and smacking him on the back. “Nice one, Rich.” One guy congratulates, and Frank just glared from his current position as a new decorative piece on the wall. He peeled himself off, and trudges this time, to Room 603, not making a sound, afraid that shit would happen again.
Sigh.
Once inside the room, he took a seat in the same spot as last year, except it's not Neal, the dude who drooled all over his green book instead of participating in class, but a scrawny blonde kid who occupies the desk next to his. “Hey,” Frank half waves, and half makes disapproving awkward noises with his throat, but the kid just ignores him and plays with his square glasses. “Weirdo.” Frank breathes, pulling out a #2 pencil from his book bag.
“I know.”
Frank turns towards the small kid, not really expecting to actually hear coherent, and may I add, actual words coming from the really thin mouth. “I didn't think you were listening.”
“I’m always listening.” The kid narrows his dark eyes, “Mikey, and just so you know.” Mikey turns to face the front of the room, completely not acknowledging Frank’s bewildered face, because, have you noticed? Someone just fucking talked back, to Frank Iero, school punk. Everybody knows unless you sit on the school throne, you will, and I repeat, will never make a snarky ass comment to Iero, or spend the rest of the week with a permanent fist indent in your face.
“Excuse me? Did you just-” Frank started to say, but the teacher had began to announce that class has begun, and no talking is permitted.
~
Frank tries to catch Mikey at the end of 1st period, but his small frame easily slips through the compressed bodies, and nobody really wants to be near the new freak, let alone touch him. He looks for him in Literature, and then it’s lunch, but the snarky ass kid had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth.
Franks moving things around in his locker when he spots a familiar moving blob of fluffy brown hair skipping towards him. “Hey Toro, nice day?” he says, as he slams the cold metal, and leans back into it’s riveted surface.
“Ha, funny joke.” Ray waves his hands excitedly, expressing his clear happiness. “Are you brown bagging it, today?”
Frank replies by holding up the paper sack, it swings a little, and then puts his arm back at his side. “Don’t want that nasty school shit in my system. Do you know how they treat animals these days, because-”
Ray cuts him off, placing his arm in front of Frank to stop him, “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Okay we get it. You like to eat rabbit food, and me and the rest of the world will munch on the fuel of a real man. Meat.” They hear a huff from behind them, but don’t bother to turn around, because it’s clearly Bob, who only makes noises like that when he’s attempting to show any void of emotion. When they see the shiny glass of the courtyard door, Frank runs up to it first, opening it, and manages to slam it in Ray’s face, giggling.
“Fuck yeah!” He growls at nothing, earning looks by some of the groups who are already perched at the mossy tables, and under trees. Frank glares at them, and they all tear their eyes away, back to the food next to them.
Frank feels a familiar grip on his shoulder, Ray, he thinks. “How sweet Frank. I love getting my nose broken by a glass door.” he smirks, and Ray just shakes his head before plopping down in the green grass under the school’s only willow tree. “So how was class, sweetheart?” Ray asked, batting his eyelashes while pulling a PB&J from his messenger bag.
“Some...asshole. Mikey? He’s new, anyways he fucking talked back to me. Big mistake.” Frank growls in the general direction of his math room. Bob actually seemed to perk up at the mention of Mikey’s name.
“Mikey? Like anorexic, skinny, scene kid Mikey? Mikey Way?”
Frank leans away from the suddenly happy Bob, “Uh, yeah?”
The bulky boy just smiles down at his lap and starts to open his Tupperware, causing Frank and Ray to exchange weird looks. Whatever, days been weird enough- Frank thinks to himself, contemplating the possibilities of why Bob, of all people, would be happy about a new junior. He pokes at his avocado and tomato bagel, before looking up. “Hey, what classes you guys got after lunch?”
Ray crinkles his nose up, his hair starting to stand up a little, and Frank and Bob share a knowing look. “Biology.” says Ray, exhaling loudly.
“I have, uh, Dramatic Arts, I think.” Frank murmurs while he feels around in the grass for his lighter, until smelling a fresh cancer stick being lit, “Bob you little-”
“Hey, midget. You said if I didn't tell Ray you were the one who keyed his car at the Smashing Pumpkins concert, I get free smokes.”
Ray’s eyes get huge, “You did what? That was you! I thought it was...just never mind. Anyways, Dramatic Arts?”
“Mhmm.”
“That’s the new teachers class! Holy shit guys, hes freaking weird. He looks like that one guy off Sweeney Todd, except his hair was is way more awesome, and he dresses like total old style!” Ray starts to ramble on about the guy, and Frank just thinks Typical. Because it was.
Everyone around them starts to pick up their trash, so they take the cue and Frank somehow ends up picking up none, but grabbing his smokes back and running as fast as he can before Ray remembers about the keying incident, and reaches the Dramatic Arts class in, like, 3 minutes flat. Which is pretty fucking awesome, considering it’s all the way down in the Mason League Department.
Frank reaches the door, and heaves a little bit because fucking smoker lungs, Christ. His knuckles curl around the door and he steps in, ignoring the snarl from the douche-bags in the back because, apparently, Greg’s girl has the total hots for Frank Iero! And like totally might leave Greg for the school punk! Like motherfucking totally- Frank mimics in his mind, like the girls from Literature.
The new teacher is bent over rummaging through his wooden desk, random papers flying up in the air, so Frank makes sure to snag a seat by the window before he can put him in a place he'd rather not be. The bell rung, and Frank just slumped further into his seat, playing with his black fringe, not paying attention to the rest of the class filing in, girls around him who are fanning themselves. He starts to remove his jacket, hanging it over the seats back when he hears someone clear their throat.
“Alright class,” a smooth melodic voice rings off the walls, and makes Frank suddenly jerk his head up towards the angelic noise erupting out from his new teacher, guy teacher’s, mouth.
His brown, no black hair, is messily tousled, resting just above his shoulders and curling around his ears. His skin was like fucking marble, white and smooth and flawless. Twinkling impossibly gold eyes- if that was even possible, lit up his face, complementing his small pixie nose, and thin (but oddly full) pink lips. It didn't seem human to look that good.
The fucker was just utterly gorgeous.
“We are going to start with just simple sketching. This is called Dramatic Arts, but I don’t see what’s so dramatic about pastels, and pencils,” the man rolled his eyes, his gaze resting onto Frank’s gaping face, “But we’ll leave that to the school board.” he finishes turning towards the front of the room.
Frank’s cheeks are red, and like, cherry red. He can feel the stare of all the girls, and small whispers because - the hot new teacher was like, totally checking Iero out! but Frank knows that’s not it. This guy is way, way too hot to be queer.
“Oh, the names Mr.Way.” the dude says, spinning on his black heels, his eyes raking over Frank, again, making him shiver. Frank pulled his jacket back on,staring at Mr.Way the whole class period, ignoring the small snickers and insults whirling around him. The teacher seemed to be having the same idea, because he would frequently look back and smirk, his eyes flickering (or was it just Frank’s imagination?) hazel-ish.
It was the last class of Frank’s day, and he was fucking terrified. One, because he didn't want to go home to his parents, and two. He felt utterly, and completely drawn to Mr.Way. Like not just curiously, but like, physically. Frank was pretty sure he was straight.
Was, as in past tense.
Frank didn't even notice the bell ringing, and stayed in his seat contemplating what was going through his head. Was he gay? Or bisexual? Pansexual? He wasn't sure. He loved boobs. He really liked boobs. He also liked the way girls were smooth and curvy and smelled nice, and just girls. But this guy-
“Frank.”
Frank looked up, and Mr.Way was staring down at him, a hand placed on his hip. His jeans, holy shit, his jeans were really tight. And Frank noticed how the sun peeking through the blinds shone just over one eye, and Frank could clearly see the gold flicker to Hazel, then back to gold again, like a strobe light or something.
“Frank class is over.”
“Oh yeah...” Frank stuttered, struggling to get out of his seat, reaching behind it to grab his bag off the ground, which wasn't...it was gone. He looked around furiously before noticing his teacher leaning against the desk, a plain black book bag hanging off his fingers.
“Looking for this?” Mr. Way smirked, but didn't hold the book bag out towards Frank.
Frank nodded, and walked over to grab it. His finger’s brushed Mr.Way’s and his whole body went ice cold, a long hard shiver racking his body, down the length of his spine to the bottom of his converse clad toes. It’s not that it felt like a bad cold, but just shockingly so. He looked into his teacher’s eyes, but if he had felt it, he was hiding it well.
“Goodbye, Frank.”
“Uh,bye.” Frank walked slowly to the door, and was almost out into the hallway when he heard somebody clear their throat behind him.
"Frank, could you do something for me?"
"Mr.Way?"
The alabaster man beckoned Frank over to him, and lay his hand on Frank's shoulders, tilting his
student’s head to the side. "I'd like you to close your eyes for a few moments, yeah?" Mr. Way lent forward, his chilly breathe hitting Frank’s neck. Brushing his pale lips against the thin skin on Frank's smooth throat, he could smell the fear seeping through every pore on the kid's small body. But he didn't care.
He had come to feed.
He deliberately ran his teeth over the ashen complexion of Frank, and then sunk his teeth in, kneading the skin until the blood started to flow into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue. This was probably, no, the best tasting plasma he had ever dined on. He felt a pair of hands latch onto the side of his face, but they weren't pushing him away, but beckoning him closer to the boy underneath him. Frank was literally clawing at him, pushing their chests hard against one another, but Mr.Way pulled away.
He didn't want to kill Frank.
Frank just stared at his teacher, who was licking his lips. His hair was tousled, and looked like sex, and his green eyes were blown wide. “Oh my god.” he whispered, and Mr.Way looked up.
“Frank,” his teacher stepped closer, expecting the boy to run away, “You should go now. This never happened.”
“Wait, so, you're not gonna ever do that again?”
Mr.Way was astonished. Had Frank actually enjoyed that? Because human’s usually just ran away and tried to forget, forget the pain of the fucking sensation of fangs in their jugular, and usually did, because the venom had erased their memory of the past day.
“Because that felt, like...awesome.”
“Wait,” Mr.Way held his hand up, “You enjoyed that?”
Frank swallowed, and brushed his fingers over the faint teeth marks on his neck. “Yeah. I...Whoa.” he smirked, looking down at his feet. “Better than sex.” he murmured into his shoulder, giggling.
“Than sex?” his teacher squeaked, turning around towards his desk and gripping the edge. Oh fucking shit, he thought. Fucking shit bitch damn, shit damn, fuck, whore, shit damn.
“Frank,” he turned back towards the young kid.
“Yeah?”
“Frank, I think you’re my mate.”
“Bob, my main man! How’s it going?” Frank smiled deviously, as he fist bumped the taller blond boy leaning against the rusty locker. Bob just scrunched up his nose in disgust, and waved his hand a little bit.
“Eh, could be worse, Ray’s been blabbing about the one new teacher though.” Frank raised his eyebrows, as in like What the actual fuck, Ray? “Apparently every girl in the school, and uh, Christa too, are drooling over him.”
Frank chuckled into his hand. “Leave it to the Fro to start obsessing over a new teacher, a guy teacher. No wonder Christa has been ignoring him.” he just rolled his eyes, and Bob opened his locker to pull out a Gatorade. He opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang. ‘See ya,’ they called after one another, and Frank headed down the west corridor for Algebra III because apparently, two hours a day, of Algebra II in Junior Year wasn't enough.
“Fuck Block Schedule, this sucks massive dick.” he muttered under his breath, quietly, or not because, well-
“And so do you!” Some massive asshole shoved Frank into the orange wall, his buddies laughing and smacking him on the back. “Nice one, Rich.” One guy congratulates, and Frank just glared from his current position as a new decorative piece on the wall. He peeled himself off, and trudges this time, to Room 603, not making a sound, afraid that shit would happen again.
Sigh.
Once inside the room, he took a seat in the same spot as last year, except it's not Neal, the dude who drooled all over his green book instead of participating in class, but a scrawny blonde kid who occupies the desk next to his. “Hey,” Frank half waves, and half makes disapproving awkward noises with his throat, but the kid just ignores him and plays with his square glasses. “Weirdo.” Frank breathes, pulling out a #2 pencil from his book bag.
“I know.”
Frank turns towards the small kid, not really expecting to actually hear coherent, and may I add, actual words coming from the really thin mouth. “I didn't think you were listening.”
“I’m always listening.” The kid narrows his dark eyes, “Mikey, and just so you know.” Mikey turns to face the front of the room, completely not acknowledging Frank’s bewildered face, because, have you noticed? Someone just fucking talked back, to Frank Iero, school punk. Everybody knows unless you sit on the school throne, you will, and I repeat, will never make a snarky ass comment to Iero, or spend the rest of the week with a permanent fist indent in your face.
“Excuse me? Did you just-” Frank started to say, but the teacher had began to announce that class has begun, and no talking is permitted.
~
Frank tries to catch Mikey at the end of 1st period, but his small frame easily slips through the compressed bodies, and nobody really wants to be near the new freak, let alone touch him. He looks for him in Literature, and then it’s lunch, but the snarky ass kid had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth.
Franks moving things around in his locker when he spots a familiar moving blob of fluffy brown hair skipping towards him. “Hey Toro, nice day?” he says, as he slams the cold metal, and leans back into it’s riveted surface.
“Ha, funny joke.” Ray waves his hands excitedly, expressing his clear happiness. “Are you brown bagging it, today?”
Frank replies by holding up the paper sack, it swings a little, and then puts his arm back at his side. “Don’t want that nasty school shit in my system. Do you know how they treat animals these days, because-”
Ray cuts him off, placing his arm in front of Frank to stop him, “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Okay we get it. You like to eat rabbit food, and me and the rest of the world will munch on the fuel of a real man. Meat.” They hear a huff from behind them, but don’t bother to turn around, because it’s clearly Bob, who only makes noises like that when he’s attempting to show any void of emotion. When they see the shiny glass of the courtyard door, Frank runs up to it first, opening it, and manages to slam it in Ray’s face, giggling.
“Fuck yeah!” He growls at nothing, earning looks by some of the groups who are already perched at the mossy tables, and under trees. Frank glares at them, and they all tear their eyes away, back to the food next to them.
Frank feels a familiar grip on his shoulder, Ray, he thinks. “How sweet Frank. I love getting my nose broken by a glass door.” he smirks, and Ray just shakes his head before plopping down in the green grass under the school’s only willow tree. “So how was class, sweetheart?” Ray asked, batting his eyelashes while pulling a PB&J from his messenger bag.
“Some...asshole. Mikey? He’s new, anyways he fucking talked back to me. Big mistake.” Frank growls in the general direction of his math room. Bob actually seemed to perk up at the mention of Mikey’s name.
“Mikey? Like anorexic, skinny, scene kid Mikey? Mikey Way?”
Frank leans away from the suddenly happy Bob, “Uh, yeah?”
The bulky boy just smiles down at his lap and starts to open his Tupperware, causing Frank and Ray to exchange weird looks. Whatever, days been weird enough- Frank thinks to himself, contemplating the possibilities of why Bob, of all people, would be happy about a new junior. He pokes at his avocado and tomato bagel, before looking up. “Hey, what classes you guys got after lunch?”
Ray crinkles his nose up, his hair starting to stand up a little, and Frank and Bob share a knowing look. “Biology.” says Ray, exhaling loudly.
“I have, uh, Dramatic Arts, I think.” Frank murmurs while he feels around in the grass for his lighter, until smelling a fresh cancer stick being lit, “Bob you little-”
“Hey, midget. You said if I didn't tell Ray you were the one who keyed his car at the Smashing Pumpkins concert, I get free smokes.”
Ray’s eyes get huge, “You did what? That was you! I thought it was...just never mind. Anyways, Dramatic Arts?”
“Mhmm.”
“That’s the new teachers class! Holy shit guys, hes freaking weird. He looks like that one guy off Sweeney Todd, except his hair was is way more awesome, and he dresses like total old style!” Ray starts to ramble on about the guy, and Frank just thinks Typical. Because it was.
Everyone around them starts to pick up their trash, so they take the cue and Frank somehow ends up picking up none, but grabbing his smokes back and running as fast as he can before Ray remembers about the keying incident, and reaches the Dramatic Arts class in, like, 3 minutes flat. Which is pretty fucking awesome, considering it’s all the way down in the Mason League Department.
Frank reaches the door, and heaves a little bit because fucking smoker lungs, Christ. His knuckles curl around the door and he steps in, ignoring the snarl from the douche-bags in the back because, apparently, Greg’s girl has the total hots for Frank Iero! And like totally might leave Greg for the school punk! Like motherfucking totally- Frank mimics in his mind, like the girls from Literature.
The new teacher is bent over rummaging through his wooden desk, random papers flying up in the air, so Frank makes sure to snag a seat by the window before he can put him in a place he'd rather not be. The bell rung, and Frank just slumped further into his seat, playing with his black fringe, not paying attention to the rest of the class filing in, girls around him who are fanning themselves. He starts to remove his jacket, hanging it over the seats back when he hears someone clear their throat.
“Alright class,” a smooth melodic voice rings off the walls, and makes Frank suddenly jerk his head up towards the angelic noise erupting out from his new teacher, guy teacher’s, mouth.
His brown, no black hair, is messily tousled, resting just above his shoulders and curling around his ears. His skin was like fucking marble, white and smooth and flawless. Twinkling impossibly gold eyes- if that was even possible, lit up his face, complementing his small pixie nose, and thin (but oddly full) pink lips. It didn't seem human to look that good.
The fucker was just utterly gorgeous.
“We are going to start with just simple sketching. This is called Dramatic Arts, but I don’t see what’s so dramatic about pastels, and pencils,” the man rolled his eyes, his gaze resting onto Frank’s gaping face, “But we’ll leave that to the school board.” he finishes turning towards the front of the room.
Frank’s cheeks are red, and like, cherry red. He can feel the stare of all the girls, and small whispers because - the hot new teacher was like, totally checking Iero out! but Frank knows that’s not it. This guy is way, way too hot to be queer.
“Oh, the names Mr.Way.” the dude says, spinning on his black heels, his eyes raking over Frank, again, making him shiver. Frank pulled his jacket back on,staring at Mr.Way the whole class period, ignoring the small snickers and insults whirling around him. The teacher seemed to be having the same idea, because he would frequently look back and smirk, his eyes flickering (or was it just Frank’s imagination?) hazel-ish.
It was the last class of Frank’s day, and he was fucking terrified. One, because he didn't want to go home to his parents, and two. He felt utterly, and completely drawn to Mr.Way. Like not just curiously, but like, physically. Frank was pretty sure he was straight.
Was, as in past tense.
Frank didn't even notice the bell ringing, and stayed in his seat contemplating what was going through his head. Was he gay? Or bisexual? Pansexual? He wasn't sure. He loved boobs. He really liked boobs. He also liked the way girls were smooth and curvy and smelled nice, and just girls. But this guy-
“Frank.”
Frank looked up, and Mr.Way was staring down at him, a hand placed on his hip. His jeans, holy shit, his jeans were really tight. And Frank noticed how the sun peeking through the blinds shone just over one eye, and Frank could clearly see the gold flicker to Hazel, then back to gold again, like a strobe light or something.
“Frank class is over.”
“Oh yeah...” Frank stuttered, struggling to get out of his seat, reaching behind it to grab his bag off the ground, which wasn't...it was gone. He looked around furiously before noticing his teacher leaning against the desk, a plain black book bag hanging off his fingers.
“Looking for this?” Mr. Way smirked, but didn't hold the book bag out towards Frank.
Frank nodded, and walked over to grab it. His finger’s brushed Mr.Way’s and his whole body went ice cold, a long hard shiver racking his body, down the length of his spine to the bottom of his converse clad toes. It’s not that it felt like a bad cold, but just shockingly so. He looked into his teacher’s eyes, but if he had felt it, he was hiding it well.
“Goodbye, Frank.”
“Uh,bye.” Frank walked slowly to the door, and was almost out into the hallway when he heard somebody clear their throat behind him.
"Frank, could you do something for me?"
"Mr.Way?"
The alabaster man beckoned Frank over to him, and lay his hand on Frank's shoulders, tilting his
student’s head to the side. "I'd like you to close your eyes for a few moments, yeah?" Mr. Way lent forward, his chilly breathe hitting Frank’s neck. Brushing his pale lips against the thin skin on Frank's smooth throat, he could smell the fear seeping through every pore on the kid's small body. But he didn't care.
He had come to feed.
He deliberately ran his teeth over the ashen complexion of Frank, and then sunk his teeth in, kneading the skin until the blood started to flow into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue. This was probably, no, the best tasting plasma he had ever dined on. He felt a pair of hands latch onto the side of his face, but they weren't pushing him away, but beckoning him closer to the boy underneath him. Frank was literally clawing at him, pushing their chests hard against one another, but Mr.Way pulled away.
He didn't want to kill Frank.
Frank just stared at his teacher, who was licking his lips. His hair was tousled, and looked like sex, and his green eyes were blown wide. “Oh my god.” he whispered, and Mr.Way looked up.
“Frank,” his teacher stepped closer, expecting the boy to run away, “You should go now. This never happened.”
“Wait, so, you're not gonna ever do that again?”
Mr.Way was astonished. Had Frank actually enjoyed that? Because human’s usually just ran away and tried to forget, forget the pain of the fucking sensation of fangs in their jugular, and usually did, because the venom had erased their memory of the past day.
“Because that felt, like...awesome.”
“Wait,” Mr.Way held his hand up, “You enjoyed that?”
Frank swallowed, and brushed his fingers over the faint teeth marks on his neck. “Yeah. I...Whoa.” he smirked, looking down at his feet. “Better than sex.” he murmured into his shoulder, giggling.
“Than sex?” his teacher squeaked, turning around towards his desk and gripping the edge. Oh fucking shit, he thought. Fucking shit bitch damn, shit damn, fuck, whore, shit damn.
“Frank,” he turned back towards the young kid.
“Yeah?”
“Frank, I think you’re my mate.”
Notes
ASDFGHJKLI kind of love paranormal Frerard.
So yeah, tell me whatcha think, and stuff.
To my lovelies,
XoXo Sage
lmao sorry about that dude. Really glad you're writing again, and I Feel You. I'm excited to read the re-writes!
1/9/17