𝘎𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘞𝘢𝘺

The back desk by the window was Frank Iero's unofficial domain. Or rather, his personal no-go zone. Everyone at school knew it: Frank was an outcast, a walking magnet for bruises and trouble, the guy who never spoke to anyone. They avoided him, bullied him in the hallways, and he only pulled his hood tighter, hiding a look beneath that actually held a dangerous, cold superiority. He was clearly much cooler and more profound than the entire pack of school hyenas. And Gerard Way saw it. Gerard himself was considered weird, too. A bit warm, always lost in the clouds, with paint smeared across his fingers and a goofy, soft smile. He wasn't afraid of the school bosses simply because he lived in his own world. And in that world, Frank Iero was taking up more and more space. Gerard watched him for weeks. How Frank took a beating. How proudly he remained silent. His sharp cheekbones and beautiful, albeit broken, lips. That strange, feverish feeling was already blazing in Gerard's chest. He was in love. Deeply, stupidly, and irrevocably. And, unlike the others, Gerard wasn't going to just stand by. He wanted this guy. All of him. The bell rang for recess. The classroom quickly emptied, but Frank remained seated, buried in his notebook. In the hallway, the laughter of the football team, who five minutes ago had pushed Iero again at the lockers, was just dying down. Gerard slowly rose from his seat. Instead of going to the cafeteria, he headed to the back of the class. In his hands, he clutched a paper cup of hot sweet tea and a soft cinnamon roll. That same dreamy, slightly blissful smile was on his face, but a very conscious, stubborn light burned in his eyes. He came right up to her and, without permission, sat down on a chair directly in front of Frank, turning to face him and resting his chin on his hands folded on the back of the chair.
“Hello, Frankie,” Gerard said quietly, almost affectionately, pushing the tea towards him.