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

Nineteen - You Can Run Away With Me

Mentions of self-harm and suicide in this chapter, stay safe frens ❤️

I was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth, when I noticed something in my hair. I paused, leaving the toothbrush in my mouth, and I ran my fingers through the strands, finding what I hoped was chocolate icing on my skin.

I spat into the sink. "Oi, asshole!"

Gerard poked his head around the doorframe. "You called?" He said, in an oddly posh feminine voice. I blinked, staring at him through the reflection in the mirror, and he laughed. "Yes, babe?"

"You whore - you got cake in my hair."

He paused. "Getting cake in your hair constitutes as whorish behavior?" I flipped him off, wiping my mouth on a towel. "Well you started it by shoving cake in my face."

"No, I think you'll find that was you." I brushed past him and into his bedroom, climbing into the right-hand side of his bed.

I picked up my phone from the nightstand, and sighed when I saw nothing. "Still no messages?" Gerard said, turning off the main light and flicking on the bedside lamp as he slipped into bed beside me.

I shook my head. "Nope." There was a pause as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and let me lean against him. "Oh, well. It's only my mom. It's not like she cares. She barely said happy birthday last year. We had an argument yesterday, and she said that if I didn't stop acting like a little bitch and didn't stop staying out all the time, she'd kick me out." I took a deep breath. "And I suppose she can, now..."

"Oh, baby..." He stroked my hair as I felt tears rolling slowly down my face.

"It's not my fault...she acts like she cares but she just doesn't want the burden of burying another member of her family...I - I've tried, I've tried so many times to stop feeling like this, a-and it doesn't work...she thinks that money makes it all better but it doesn't, and I - I -"

"Hey, Frank, look at me." I raised my head, my eyes on his, and he kissed me softly, delicately, as if I would break. "Don't upset yourself, sugar. It's still your birthday for another ten minutes, and it's written rule that you're not allowed to cry on your birthday." I managed a watery giggle, and he brushed my tears away. "Please don't cry. You're still beautiful when you cry, but that doesn't mean you should cry."

"Okay," I mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He took my phone and placed it on the nightstand behind him, and then he lay down, pulling me down with him. "I just wish you knew how much it hurts me when you cry."

"Sorry." I traced patterns on his bare chest, feeling warm and safe with his arms around me. "I don't mean to hurt you."

He kissed the top of my head. "Stop it. I told you, it's not your fault. Don't you ever blame yourself."

I sighed, draping my arm across his body. "I don't want you to leave."

He rolled onto his side, and I shuffled upwards, so we were face-to-face. "I know," he placed a hand on the side of my face. "please don't make me feel bad about it." I remained silent, and he leaned his forehead against mine. "Let me take you out tomorrow. We can go across the state, where nobody knows us, and we can act how we want. That sound good?"

I nodded. "Yeah. That would be awesome."

He kissed me softly. "Good. Get some sleep, beautiful."

I let him pull me close, burying my face in the crook of his neck and closing my eyes. It was then that I realised that I'd do anything for him, and I didn't know if that was a good thing or not.