Tell Me I'm A Bad Man [Teacher/Student Frerard]

Four - C'mon And Feel That Shame

Trigger warning for self-harm and suicide mention in this chapter ❤️

All through art, I was surprisingly quiet. I think that even Gerard noticed, because he kept shooting me these little glances. It wasn't because I was particularly upset, more because I was thinking.

"Frank?" I blinked, looking around, to see everyone gone and Gerard stood nearby. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. Daydreaming."

He arched a perfect eyebrow, and handed me a note. "I'll let you go now, but come over at five or something." He smiled, seeming shy all of a sudden, and I shrugged.

"Okay."

I left school and meandered slowly to the cemetery. With a heavy sigh I sat down, my head in my hands. I didn't know what was wrong with me. One moment I was the happiest fucker - or, at least, the most all right fucker - the next I was overthinking everything way too much and becoming strangely quiet. To be fair, it happened quite a bit, so I didn't see what the problem was. I thought I was a useless piece of shit among other things, why not think myself a whore, too?

I let out a humorless laugh, rummaging in my backpack for my cigarettes. Yep, I'll just smoke, piss off my teachers, talk shit about my dad, and do nothing with my life. Sounds like a plan. I wondered briefly if Gerard smoked, and then remembered that he smelled of cigarettes, so it's a possibility.

I envied my father. It was so easy for him. Death was so easy for him. After all, he was the one who chose when he died, how he died, and where he died - because he fucking killed himself. He put a gun to his head and he pulled the trigger, and some builder found his body. I've been thinking about doing that for at least three years, and never got the balls to actually do it. So it was a fucking shock when the police told me that my father had been having exactly the same thoughts as me. That was two years ago, when I was fifteen.

I found the note that Gerard had given me, and it had his address on it. I knew where it was; a couple of blocks from my house. I just didn't know whether to actually go over there.

Oh, who was I kidding? Of course I was going. My penis had decided that for me, whether I liked it or not.

So I smoked until it was time to leave, and then I stood. I patted my father's gravestone, muttering 'see ya, asshole' and then I picked up my backpack and set off for my art teacher's house. I didn't bother telling my mom that I'd be out; she wouldn't take much notice, and if she did, she'd be questioning me all night about which 'friend's house I'd been to. And I don't think she'd like it if I told her that my friend was twenty-four, really hot, and taught me art at school.

Gerard's house was a decent-sized house - not too big, not too small. It was painted slightly off-white, more like an extremely light gray, with one window downstairs and two upstairs. On the front, anyway. The pathway was cracked stone, but it was cool cracked stone, and the grass lawn was tidy, yet it had that unkempt aura that Gerard had. There was a black fence around the front garden, and when I looked at the house, the front door was also black. There was black trim all around the house too, so it was kinda like a black and white gothic house. Maybe this wasn't Gerard's house. Maybe a vampire lived here.

At that, the front door opened, and a voice said, "Are you gonna come in, or are you gonna gawp at my house all evening?"

I looked over and saw Gerard leaning against the doorframe. His hair was messier than it had been at school, and his tie was loose, his shirt untucked. He looked like some college student, not my art teacher.

"Not sure, I haven't decided yet." I smirked, opening the gate and walking up towards the house. "You live here?"

"No, I'm just a squatter." Ooh, he has sass. "Yes, I live here. Come in."