Roommates

Gerard's POV:

"Alright, my little wanna-be artists. I have just finished grading your head-shot assignments, and they are up here on the table. So, one at a time, come up, and see your grade."

Everyone jumped from their seats, and ran towards the front of the room, completely disobeying the orders from the teacher. But, it looked like he didn't even give a damn. He just sat at his desk, feet up, reading the newspaper; typical vision of a fat, lazy teacher.

"Mr.Way? Do you expect the graded assignment to fly from off that table and land in front of you? Well, if that's what you were expecting, you are horribly wrong, kid. Get up, and retrieve your assignment!"

I rolled my eyes, not really giving a damn for what he had to say. Obviously, the projects weren't as important as he was trying to make them if it took him basically 2 months to grade. I slowly stood up from my seat, and walked to the crowded table, feeling his beady eyes on me the whole way there.

By the time all the crazy ass pushy students had gotten their projects and went back to their seats, mine was the only one left. When I picked it up, I looked all over the front, but there was no grade on it anywhere. I flipped it over to the back, assuming that that would be the last place it would be. And in the bottom left corner, written in red ink, was a 95%.

I was actually sorta shocked. I didn't think I'd get that high of a score. Maybe somewhere in the B range. But hey, I don't need to complain.

*-*-*

I decided to hang my head shot project up on the walls of the room. Frank's side has been decorated with large posters of the bands he listens to, and my walls were still blank, surprisingly. I tacked it up on the wall, and stepped back a few feet, admiring the work I had done. I was pretty damn proud of myself.

"Why is my fucking face hanging on the wall?" A familiar voice asked. I turned around, and saw Frank setting his backpack on his bed, still rocking the birthday present I gave him this morning.

"Because it likes it there. Duh," I said sarcastically. He didn't buy it, but smiled anyways.

"What grade did you get on the damned thing?" He asked, standing beside me, shoving his tattooed hands inside the pockets of his sweatshirt. I smiled at his pose, because he looked so damn adorable.

"95%."

"That's fucking good. Word on the street is that art teacher man you have is like strict as fuck. He rarely gives out A's."

I pursed my lips and stood there. It doesn't seem like a difficult of a class. He never said anything about rarely giving out A's either.

"He never said anything about that," I muttered, still staring at the picture. God, there is so much of a resemblance between this beautiful guy to my left, and the drawing on the wall. Yes, I called him beautiful. I mean, if you were able to look at this guy, how his dark hair complements his pale face, and how small he is. He's just perfect.

"Wow, your really fucking fascinated with that picture you drew of me, huh?" He asked, snapping my out of my day dreaming.

"Oh, well I think it looks good. I am proud of it. Probably the best I've done before."

"Hmm.." Frank said, then trailing off.

*-*-*