Our Last Summer

A cold breeze drifted through the near-empty courtyard, causing the two teenage boys to pull their blazers tighter around themselves, the creak of the swings the only man-made sound against the brushing of wind through the leaves on the trees. This was a part of the school nobody visited anymore, which made it perfect for the smokers to sneak off for a sneaky cigarette without getting caught.

Two teenage boys settled themselves by the fence surrounding the bus bay, one sat on top of it, swinging his legs, cigarette half-forgotten in his hand; the other stood up, leant against one of the solid wooden fence posts, cigarette between his lips as he surveyed the area.

"Frank, the place is fucking deserted, talk to me."

"Nothing to talk about, Gerard." The boy sat down instantly replied, looking up and catching the eye of his friend and receiving a raised brow and a sympathetic smile in return.

The taller of the two rolled his eyes, moving to sit down on the fence beside his friend, hooking one leg over it and sitting on it as if it were a horse with his hands supporting him, "Come on," he whined, "something's bothering you. I can read you like a book."

Frank sighed, flicking his dying cigarette onto the damp grass, "Mom's set a curfew."

"What? Why? You're home on time every single day?"

"I know!" Frank said, exasperated. He gestured angrily with his hands as he spoke, "It's like neither of them even trust me anymore! I spend all fucking evening at home helping out, just so happens that one day I get home late from school - half an hour late, that's it - and suddenly I'm this problem child who can't be trusted to bring himself home!"

"Come on man that's not true, of course they trust you." Gerard said, leaning his weight onto his hands and dipping his head to get Frank to look at him, "You're lucky your parents care if you get shot out in the streets of Jersey man, some people don't have that luxury."

Frank stared at him evenly, "Your mom still knits you sweaters."

"I didn't say me, did I?" Gerard smirked, "and she knits you sweaters too so don't bitch."

Frank had to grin back. "True," he muttered. He pushed himself off of the fence and tugged lightly at Gerard's sleeves as a signal to follow. "We better get to class. And I'm staying at yours after school."

Gerard laughed with a shake of his head and watched with a smile as his best friend walked on ahead of him before taking steps to follow. It was an unquestioned fact for all who knew them that no two boys had ever been closer than seventeen year old Frank Iero and Gerard Way, nor were two boys ever likely to be again.