Our Foundations from Decay

Frank POV

Green pleats wouldn't stop following me as I walked towards the daunting cafeteria. Nature stalked me, brushing past my skin as leaves fluttered in the crisp breeze. I attempted to push the thought of tauntingly short skirts and bare legs out of my mind, only for stark memories to appear in flashes.

Get a grip Frank, focus!

Gerard suddenly hummed, eyes gazed upwards in thought. "I'm really craving chee--"

"Huh? Cheerleader?" I perked up, suddenly alert.

"What?" He spun to me, face furrowed.

"What?" I parroted, putting on an oblivious voice.

He sent me another puzzled look before continuing to talk. "As I WAS saying, I'm really craving Cheetos. The weather makes me nostalgic."

Ah. right.

"O-oh, yeah. I'll find you some." I pinched myself discreetly, praying for the shame to disintegrate like my dignity. Stepping onto the lino steps, we found ourselves standing underneath the intimidating glare of cafeteria doors. Gerard met my glance, taking my sweaty hand in his own.

"We've got this." Announced the boy, head held high. "Right?"

I gave a sharp nod, rolling my shoulders and cracking my knuckles; preparation for war. "Yeah. We've got this."

The sky very well would have split itself in half and it would have felt less jarring than opening the hefty cafeteria doors. Noise flooded in like the echos of a jungle, wild monkeys and vicious boars fighting for a battle of high-school dominance. The room was no place for outcasts like me and Gerard- loners with no social credibility to our names. Watchful teenage stares pricked into our skin, gleaming teeth antsy to rip us to shreds.

I took a deep breath, guiding my boyfriend through the bustling cafeteria. Our Battle of the Bands competitors are probably here. We're gonna destroy them. My eyes searched for the cut-throat musicians of my expectations, envisioning who we'd have to go head to head with. The two of us ignored the leering looks directed at our intertwined hands, instead focusing our energy on stumbling through the halls. I grimaced at the sound of rubbery shoes peeling off sticky ground with every step we took, headache-inducing lights revealing the grease smothering every surface.

As Gerard and I finally lined up behind a group of giggling girls, I realised in a flash of disappointment that they were all taller than me. Dammit!                   
Unaware of my misery, the group continued with their  baboon-like chatter as it moved through the air in invasive waves. 

"Guess what?" One of them was gossiping conspiratorially, hand beside her face like she was spilling government secrets. "Someone told me that Bert McCracken's got his eyes on someone. Like, for real this time." The name felt recognisable, familiar spikes poking at my brain.

"Right, I heard he's back!" Number 2 added with a passionate snap of her manicured fingers.

With a dramatic gasp, number 3 seized her friend's hand. "No way! Hasn't he been disloyal since fourth grade or something?"

Woah, this guy sounds like a tool!

"I know right! Oh yeah, apparently his mom's making him go back to school or she's kicking him out." The first one was back to gossiping, entertained grin etched on her face. "It's crazy that he's got the hots for someone. I wonder what she's like?"

"Ugh, seriously?" Number 2 sulked, her mouth puffed out in a pout. "I thought he'd wait for me!"

Both of the friends turned to stare at her, arms crossed. One of the girls grabbed her heartbroken buddy by the shoulder, shaking her around. "Honey. He's graduating next year. You're 15 and delusional, relax."

The pouting girl's shoulders slumped, tears already pooling in her dramatic eyes. "But he picked up my pencil for me!"

Oh god, she is delusional.

Everyone sighed as they turned, food trays in hand. The group's chatter drifted off as they skilfully wove through huddles of people, blending in with the rest of the crowd. With a space now open, I began piling food onto the flimsy cardboard plates; praying that they wouldn't collapse under the pressure.

My impression of this so called 'Bert McCracken' didn't shine with positivity, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. Between my thoughts, I caught sight of Gerard's expression as he stood in a haze. The boy was staring off into the distance, gnawing at the inside of his cheeks in twitchy movements. Is he gonna get any food?

"Gee? You okay?" I inquired, raising my arm to gently press my fingers down on his lips, attempting to calm the onslaught from his teeth. His mouth was warm to the touch, pale skin smooth from underneath my hand.

"Uh, well..." He hesitated, shuffling his feet. "I know that guy."

"You mean the Bert one?" I took my arm back, tilting my head at him.

Gerard nodded, "Yeah, he actually-" The boy's voice got cut off by the sound of an angry old lady, her plastic-gloved fist raised.

"Hurry up kids, I ain't got all freakin' day!"

Both of us jumped a little, rushing forwards to grab any scraps left. The clicking of tongs aligned almost musically with my thoughts, curiosity drifting through my head like a melody. He knows Bert? Why? That guy sound like an asshole.

Noticing the absence of food on Gerard's plate, I handed my own one to him before abruptly turning around, eyeing up the vending machine near the entrance.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              "I'll go get you those Cheetos."

Without looking back, I worked my way through the bustling crowd. Dodging trays and flying food, I eventually made it to the other side. Nice. A mangled and ravaged vending machine greeted me, ripped stickers and graffitied slurs layering the surface. It was a depressing sight— barely a ghost of its prior grandeur.

My coin fell with a satisfying clunk, cogs whirring as the chips landed in the compartment. Snatching the Cheetos up, I prepared myself for the trek back. Why was Gerard so nervous? I awkwardly slid by a couple making out. What's his history with Bert McCracken? I evaded a pile of scuffling first-years. Why's it stressing me out?

Then I felt my heart drop faster than the twin towers, spotting my boyfriend on the other side of the cafeteria. He was talking to a boy, one that stood slightly taller than him. Greasy, dark hair brushed past the mystery-man's shoulders, gothic clothes adorned by chains and badges. He looked untrustworthy. Dangerous.

Who is that guy?