nobody will love you like the devil will//frerard/ferard

chapter three

Frank spends the entire day regretting Doing the Right Thing instead of cutting class to hang out with Gerard. As usual, he drifts through the crowded school hallways like a ghost, shoved and jostled by the forest of taller people around him. No one tries to trip him up or bundle him into a locker, which is something, but no one actually acknowledges his existence either. It could be worse, he supposes. He'd rather be invisible than be a punching bag for the school's resident assholes. As long as he doesn't mind pretending he doesn't exist, they don't mind doing the same.

Class isn't exactly exciting on the best of days, and this is really, really not the best of days. It's probably just the restless sense that he could be somewhere else, doing something more interesting, but every minute feels like an hour. Frank sits and watches the clock and manages to provoke no fewer than six nuns into making I'm-really-very-disappointed-in-you-Franklin faces at him, which he thinks might be a new personal record. He starts awarding himself points: five for an aggrieved sigh and ten for a disappointed face. It doesn't make the time go any faster, but at least it keeps him occupied.

Eventually, though, four o' clock rolls round. Fucking finally, Frank is so ready to get out of here. He takes the route that leads him past the church. It isn't the quickest way home, but he loves that church. It's kind of a lucky charm for him – just walking past it is usually enough to make him breathe a little easier. He's still annoyed with himself about earlier. Was a day of pointless lessons really so high a price to pay for some time with someone interesting who actually seemed to like him? He's a fucking idiot.

"Frank!"

Frank turns back to look for the source of the voice, spinning around so fast he's probably given himself whiplash. He knows that voice, but surely--

And there's Gerard, sauntering out of the long, slender afternoon shadow of the church with a lopsided grin on his face. Frank waves eagerly at him like the total loser he is, and immediately wants to kick himself in the face for being such a fucking dork. Sometimes he feels like he just shouldn't be allowed to talk to people. Ever. He should just go somewhere far away and live under a rock or something.

"Where are you headed?" Gerard asks.

"Uh, just. Home?" says Frank, feeling like he should have had something more exciting to say.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

Frank is so surprised he finds himself saying "Sure," before his brain can catch up and start wondering if this is some kind of joke, but at least he manages to shut his mouth before he can ask who put Gerard up to talking to him. He starts down the hill in the direction of his house, and Gerard falls into step next to him.

"So," Gerard says, flashing Frank a sidelong grin. "How does a good Catholic boy like you wind up listening to The Smashing Pumpkins?"

Frank says, reeling a little from the fact that someone is actually asking him this, has actually listened to what he said and thought about it and found things they wanted to know. He thinks for a moment, scrabbling for the words to explain how prayer and confession centre him when he feels like he's going to drift away and music drags him back to the surface when he feels like he's drowning. "Okay. Church kind of grounds me, I guess? And music, like, brings me back up. It's sort of a... balance thing."

"Huh," says Gerard thoughtfully, like Frank just said something that was actually interesting. Frank isn't entirely sure whether to be flattered or suspicious that Gerard is making fun of him.

And then Gerard looks over at him with that lopsided smile again and says, "So what else are you into?" and Frank's misgivings scatter like the leaves on the sidewalk.