I Drew You Once in Art Class

One Hundred One

Gerard had been left high and dry.

Bert had finally had enough of him bitching about Frank, so he left.

Fair, honestly.

He saw Hayley say something to Frank, and then they both looked up at him. He raised his head from where it had been resting on his hand, confused as to what had diverted their attention to him. Suddenly, Frank was walking away from Hayley.

He was coming over here? What the fuck?

Gerard's heart started beating with anxiety.

Frank took a seat next to Gerard on the cold metal bleachers. For a moment, all they did was look at the sea of people dancing.

"I'm sorry."

Gerard turned to face Frank, noticing the faint wetness in his left eye.

"I'm sorry for being jealous, and I'm sorry for not trusting you."

Gerard shook his head.

"No, dude. I was the one in the wrong here. I said a lot of things, I assumed a lot of things. I was a dick. I'm sorry."

Frank sniffed, smiling as a tear rolled down his cheek. "You were kind of a dick," he said, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"You too, nerd. Can we just... can we just be friends again? I missed you. Like, a lot."

"Yes, please, yes. I hate fighting with you." He leaned his head on Gerard's shoulder.

"Oh, one thing, though," Gerard said. "Why did you block me?"

"Frank raised his eyebrows in confusion, lifting his head to look at Gerard. "Block you? I didn't-" His face set with realization. "Oh. Shit, I dropped my phone off a bridge and it totally exploded. Well, not really, but all the glass was, like, all over. Your texts must have not been going through."

Gerard shook his head in disbelief. "God, I totally got myself all worked up about that. What were you doing on a bridge?" He asked, curiously.

"Hangin' out with Hayley," Frank said, his eyes drifting to the girl sitting on the bleachers across the gym.

"Are you two..."

"No... um, I like someone else."

Gerard grinned smugly. "Is it me?"

"No, it's Harry Styles. Yes, it's you, dipshit."

He leaned on Gerard's shoulder again, and Gerard leaned back, his cheek atop Frank's head.

They sat like that for the rest of the song, before it changed to something much more upbeat. Gerard stood up. Frank looked at him curiously before Gerard held out a hand. Frank took it, and the two sped down the bleachers toward the mob of dancing kids, hand in hand.

They danced for about a minute before Gerard's face suddenly lit up and he dashed off into the crowd. "What are you doing?!" Frank called. "One second! Stay here!" Gerard shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared into the mob. Frank felt a little nervous now, suddenly surrounded by all these people by himself. But Gerard was at his side again not a minute later, smirking like he was up to something. "What did you do?" Frank asked, uneasily.

Gerard only giggled.

Suddenly, a very, very familiar song came on. Frank's eyes lit in recognition. "No, you didn't!" He shouted, shoving Gerard. Gerard giggled like a little kid and held out his hand.

And so they danced to Crashing Waves, just like the first day they'd hung out, just like the way their feet had squeaked on the concrete floors, just like the first time in a long time that Frank had felt happy.