Chapter Text
Belleville High was the same gray hell it had been since 1915, floors were always sticky with God knows what, and the faint smell of B.O hangs in the air at a constant.
Frank Iero owned the entire place. Or at least acted like he did. Junior year, varsity soccer star, the guy with brown hair spiked up all messy looking like he’d just rolled out of bed (or someone else’s.)
He had tattoos peeking out from under his Pencey Prep tee and a lip ring he fidgeted with when he was nervous, although it's not like he would ever let anyone know he was with that cocky-asshole type smirk he always had on his face. Popular doesn't begin to explain it; Frank was the center of everything.
But lately, something has been off. Or maybe on. He couldn’t stop thinking about that weird senior art kid, Gerard Way. He has short bleach-blonde hair that sticks up in uneven tufts, it looked like he might've cut it himself. He's got deathly pale skin and smudged eyeliner around his hazel eyes He was almost always wearing turtlenecks and sweaters.
Gerard was quiet, invisible to most, but Frank couldn't help but be totally fascinated by the guy. Frank would mess around with him, usually in the hallways by snatching things out of his hands or crowding his space just to hear him speak or watch him react.
Today, though, Frank was distracted from Gerard. There was this new girl. Or at least, he thought she was new. He’d spotted her in the art wing that morning. She had short white-blonde hair, heavy makeup, pale skin. She looked like Christina Ricci in some old movie. She was wearing a black skirt over fishnets, and an oversized coat. She’d been at a locker, packing a bag with art supplies.
Frank had tried to catch her eye, so he put on his best, albeit cocky, little grin. “Hey, you new here?” She’d glanced at him, her hazel eyes flicking over him like she took a little look before realizing he was not worth the effort, then turned away without a word.
It bugged him. Girls didn’t ignore Frank Iero.
By lunch, he was still thinking about her. He was sat at his lunch table with his soccer team. "Dude, she was hot as hell,” Frank raved, leaning back in his chair, legs spread wide.
"Like, mysterious. She didn't even talk to me, she just gave me this look and bounced." One of the guys at the table. Matt, laughed through a mouthful of fries. “Sounds perfect for you, Iero. No backtalk.”
Frank smirked absentmindedly. “Nah, seriously. I’d date her in a heartbeat. Figure out what her deal is.”
The table erupted in jeers and shoves of shoulders. “Frank’s got a crush!” “Since when do you date, man? You’re more the one-night type of guy!” Frank laughed it off. “What can I say? I’m versatile.”
Gerard Way was at the next table over alone as usual, picking at a sandwich while sketching in the margins of his notebook. He overheard every word and he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face.
Because the “girl” was him.
It had started as an art project, an experiment if you will. Gerard had woken up that morning, stared at his reflection and thought, Why not?
He had dug out some old clothes from his mom’s closet and padded his chest and hips, did the makeup heavy but not clownish. Eyeliner, lipstick, the works. He went to school like that, just to see. And it worked. People were nicer. No one recognized him, not even the teachers in his morning classes.
He hadn’t spoken a word, purposefully so, and now Frank fucking Iero was talking about how hot “she” was. How he’d date “her.” Gerard’s heart pounded with thrill at the realization of this. Frank, the asshole who’d been messing with him for weeks, stealing his stuff, pushing him around, Frank, who Gerard couldn’t stop sketching at night.
This could be fun. He'd make it a game of cat and mouse, except for the fact Frank would be chasing a ghost. Gerard finished his sketch then packed up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As he passed Frank’s table, he “accidentally” bumped into Frank’s chair just hard enough to jostle him.
Frank looked up, annoyed. “Watch it, Way.” Gerard met his eyes for a second too long and gave a flicker of a cocky smirk, reminiscent of Frank’s seemingly constant expression. He then just walked off.
Frank stared after him, rubbing his shoulder. What was that look? Nah. He shook it off and focused back on the mystery girl, all the while Gerard was already planning his next move.
Later that afternoon between classes, Frank made his way into the bathroom for a quick break. He paused to listen for any sound; nothing. It was empty. He rested his lower back against the sink, mind wandering back to that girl from earlier, specifically her eyes.
Something about the way she looked at him that he couldn’t shake. His hand slipped down without thinking, adjusting himself through his shorts. A quick tug, nothing crazy, just relieving the tension. He didn’t hear the stall door creak open behind him.
Gerard stepped out and froze when he saw Frank there, hand mid-motion. He would’ve scoffed if he wasn’t so shocked. Frank yanked his hand away, face burning red. “What the fuck, Way? You just lurking?”
Gerard leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and he brought back his cocky smirk. “Didn’t know this was a private restroom, Frankie.”
Frank turned, trying to keep a poker face as his heart was racing. “Fuck off.”Gerard chuckled. “Or what?”
The air was thick with tension. Frank swallowed and stepped closer, crowding Gerard’s space like he would in the halls. The difference was that this time, Gerard didn’t back away. Instead he pushed off the wall, causing Frank’s back to hit the sink, not hard enough to cause any serious damage, just elicit a little pain.
For a second, they just looked into each other’s eyes, then Gerard laughed and walked out, as if he were teasing.
Frank didn’t dare to move from the position Gerard left him in, chest heaving. He felt both confused and oddly turned on. What the hell was happening? Gerard, now away from the bathroom and in the hall, bit his lip to hide his grin.
This is going to be fun.