Making the Grade

I have decided by the next day that only if Frank gives an indication that he loves me, then I will tell him how I feel towards him.
Little did I know I’d get my first indication that very first day of said decision.
I end up having to stay after class; no, not another one of Mr. Iero’s concerned talks, this time, I was just slow at getting my stuff gathered, sort of on purpose.
It’s a two hour late start, so my next period is lunch. Mr. Iero studies me sluggishly gather my things, everyone else having vacated the room.
“Aren’t you in a hurry?” Mr. Iero asks. “I mean, you’re a kid, eating is life to you.”
I chuckle and flip my hair, trying to seem a little cute. “What can I say, I’m in no hurry.”
I watch Mr. Iero from the corner of my eye as he stands, heading the back bookshelf, which happens to be right next to my desk. He wedges in between me and the other desk, his narrow hips finding their way easily into the small space. He plucks a book off the shelf, dusting off the battered cover. I turn, to act like I wasn’t watching him.
“Gerard, you should read this,” Frank suggests.
“What is it?” I ask, pretending to be more interested in the contents of my backpack than his words.
“ ‘Chicken Noodle Soup For The Teenage Soul: The Tough Stuff,’” Mr. Iero reads. “It’s pretty gruesome at some points, but you’re a mature young man, and I’m sure you’re fully capable of handling it.”
I turn around to see him offering me the book. I reach for it, and our fingers brush together as he passes it to me, sending sparks of what feels like electricity through my fingertips. I blush, and turn away so he won’t notice, zipping up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
I see Mr. Iero return to his desk, and as he walks past me, I feel, and see, one of his tattooed hands brush across my butt.
“M-Mr. Iero?” I stammer. This surely means he likes me, right? How much more blatant can he be? And knowing Mr. Iero, he’d be the kind to play it subtle.
“Hmmm?” he replies, perking his refined eyebrows up. He looks so innocent and oblivious, surely the hand was on accident.
I scoff, muttering, “Never mind.”
I pass his desk, focusing on keeping my cheeks unflushed and my penis flaccid.
“Bye, Gerard,” he calls, opening up a book and kicking his feet up onto the desk.
“See you, Mr. Iero,” I respond.
FRANK’S P.O.V.
I sit down at my desk, taking a long swig from my coffee in an attempt to sober myself. Not from alcohol, but from Gerard Way. I almost got caught giving his ass a little sample. Imagine what would happen if the board had found out. The boy seemed flustered, leaving quickly after. He obviously noticed, because I’m just sooo wily and clever (not). Still, my reaction to his address must’ve been believable enough to have him sold on the idea that my hand just accidently on purpose found its way onto Gerard’s butt.
I run a hand through my hair, gripping the roots tightly. God, can I agree with Gerard on the whole haven’t been sleeping well thing. I’m worried it’s going to lessen my judgment, and push me to make a move on the student. It’s wrong; I know; he’s seventeen, but according to his student I.D., he’s turning 18 in April. So really, whichever way you want to look at it, we’re only three or four years apart, max. It’s kind of like a senior dating a freshman, which is okay. So, I should be able to like him right?
I sigh because I just don’t know, but all I know is that I’m nursing a crippling crush on my fucking student.
GERARD’S P.O.V.
At lunch, Ray is all over me with the questions.
“So did you tell him?”
“Did he like you back?”
“He wasn’t upset, was he?”
“Ray!” I interrupt. Ray looks hurt, so I rest a hand on his shoulder, making him smile. “Look, I decided not to tell him unless he makes a move first.”
“But…..” Ray looks deflated. He slumps in his seat, shoulders hunched forward and arms hanging limply at his sides. “But he could never do that.”
“I know,” I say calmly.
“You can’t just hold it in forever, you know,” Ray murmurs, picking at his food absently.
“I don’t intend to. But, it’s just a crush,” I point out. “My feelings will eventually fade.” I know that this is a big fat lie. Honestly, I don’t know if I can get over Frank without getting a boyfriend that’s not him.
Ray sighs, frustrated with me, and Bob’s blue eyes remain fixed on the screen of his D.S.
I know that Ray has a point. I should act on it eventually. I’m just afraid of being rejected. There are too many things that could go wrong, including Frank possibly getting the principal into it and having me punished. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to do that, but while unlikely, it’s still a valid possibility.
I try to build up my nerve that night, even writing down what I plan to say and practicing it in the mirror. I work on my best puppy eyes and toy around with my hair, trying to see which style makes me look most sophisticated. No matter what I do to it, I look like a fucking kid. I see scissors on my desk, so I take them and wedge a piece of hair between the two strips of metal. I cut it off, allowing it to fall to the floor. I continue to cut off chunk after chunk, trying to keep it even. I cut it until it’s up to my ears, and comb it forward so I have bangs reaching my eyebrows.
Finally, I look presentable for tomorrow. Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow is the day that I confess my love to Frank Iero.