"So how is it?" The taller of the two men looked up as his boyfriend slammed the front door behind him, dropping his bag by the door and falling into the sofa, all in a very teenage manner.

Frank shrugged, a smile twitching at his lips, as he finally met his boyfriend's gaze, and noticed the look of concern in Max's eyes. "It was fine, just... I think I'm the shittest teacher ever, but I think this is the shittest school ever, so I fit perfectly, if you know what I mean?"

Max didn't know what Frank meant, but for his benefit, he nodded his head in agreement, and pulled the younger man closer into his side. "So, what are your students like? You got any teacher's pets?"

"Max..." Frank shook his head, taking it entirely the wrong way, "I'm not fucking the kids-:

"I sure hope not!" Max exclaimed, Frank's words startling just a little, "I meant... come on, Frank, you know what I meant."

"Mmm... they're alright, they can be amusing, some classes are better than others, some people are better than others, it's... weird... sort of therapeutic, like I'm finally getting some form of justice and revenge from my shitty high school experience, because school isn't meant to be fun, and no one wants to be there, do they?"

Max questioned Frank's motives a little, but pinned it down to exhaustion, and continued with another question, "what about the teachers? You making friends?"

"Shut up," Frank shook his head, "I haven't really spoken in depth to anyone, but there's Lindsey from the art department who joined me on a smoke break and she's really cool, and just like everyone else it seems, she just doesn't shut up this Mr Way, who of course, I'm yet to meet... I don't know, everyone seems to think he's so important for some goddamn reason, and I don't get it."

"Probably just because you haven't met him yet; I'm sure he's a spectacular teacher or something." Max reassured him, giving Frank's hand a squeeze.

"Or just insanely hot, considering what I've heard."

Max swallowed, hard, getting up from the sofa, and heading to the kitchen, "you want coffee?" He called out as he went, but received no response, and he didn't even turn, he didn't even care, because Max didn't want coffee, and they both knew that the very moment the backdoor slammed, and the older man left for god knows where, and Frank sat there alone, but used to it.

It was probably better than the alternative, and they were probably managing, or something, but Frank really just didn't know what he was doing anymore, because nothing had really been the same since that night last February.

And Frank knew that as he grabbed his iPod and his headphones, and the first song that came on, as he shut his eyes tight and tried not to think about the mess they were in, because really, it was nothing short of that: a fully formed mess.

-

Gerard thought they were the coolest socks he'd ever seen; Mikey severely disagreed, but thankfully, he couldn't burn them off his brother's feet, like he secretly wanted to, through a Skype call.

Mikey had left for some stupid 'we're too pretentious, also it's not exactly legal most places because apparently we live in the 1900s, to get married, but this is totally our honeymoon, even if it feels like it's never going to end' to Japan, something like two months ago, with his boyfriend of something close to five years, Pete Wentz, who was either the best or the worst person Gerard had ever met, but he certainly made Mikey happy, so what Gerard thought of him didn't matter so much at all.

"Gee, seriously, we got these fucking green tea kitkats, and like, I was like, 'that's gonna be fucking weird and disgusting', and Pete was like 'I know let's buy them', and we did, and fucking green tea kitkats, they're the best thing in the whole fucking world, but then Pete spent like the next four hours gloating about being right and how it was such a good idea, and I really hate him an awful lot, but like," the twenty six year old lowered his voice and leaned into the laptop camera, "I really think... I... I'm so in love with him, I just... it's weird, Gee, there's nothing like it, but you're gonna know what I mean some day, I promise."

Gerard simply raised his eyebrows at his brother, "will I? I have to be a bitter asshole, come on, Mikey, or people are gonna be like 'where's Gerard and what the fuck did you do with him?'"

"No, people are going to be saying that to the guy you're head over heels for, and it's going to happen, and you're going to meet him and-"

"If you fucking dare tell me the story of you and Pete meeting again, for like the seven hundredth time, I will... I will, I will ring mum up right this fucking second, and I'll tell her that story about when you were fifteen and there was Mrs Parkin's dog and that America's Next Top Model thing-"

"And I'll tell her about that boy you fucked in her bed, because there was another dude still asleep in yours." Mikey's words turned harsh, glaring at his brother through the webcam.

"I was a wild eighteen year old, and a very drunk one." Gerard let out a sigh, checking his phone to find a text from Lindsey, catching sight of the word 'Frank', and instantly throwing his phone back down onto his bed, and groaning internally.

"And what? You're going to be thirty in several months, and you're still bitter and lonely, and you need to get yourself a man, Gee, come on, if I wasn't half way across the world right now, I'd fucking kick your ass into... another guy's ass..."

"That's not quite how gay sex works, Mikey, or at least I would have hoped you knew that already... I mean, well, not-"

"Alright, Gee, I'll shove your cock into another guy's ass, is that better?"

"I might just become a monk." Gerard let out a giggle, unable to keep a straight (well, straight was the wrong word) face while Mikey was raising his eyebrows at him like that.

"Do you really want to risk that haircut, though?" Mikey grimaced at the thought of Gerard with a full on monk haircut, and robes.

"Hmm... I could just get a mohawk instead, like rainbow coloured and at least four inches tall-"

"Come on, Gee, do you really want your hair to be bigger than your dick?"

And if Mikey wasn't half way across the world, Gerard would have brutally fucking murdered him.

-

Because Helen, with the long blonde hair hadn't done her homework, and most certainly not because Lindsey had said so much about Mr Iero's ass that it had to be worth at least a glance: that was why Mr Way found himself dawdling around the English corridor come second lesson; he was nervous, and stupidly so, and of course without a clue as to why.

Because this was all so painfully stupid: from the notion to him following through with it, and even in the way that he did so, because god, Gerard was acting like he was nervous, acting like he cared about this 'Frank' at all, because really, he'd never ever hear the end of this if Lindsey caught him here, and even if she didn't notice his extra long toilet break, he was pretty damn sure that with the levels of gossip in this school, some little sod would go up to the pretty art teacher with boobs so amazing they could be considered works of art themselves, and mutter something about Mr Way's little visit to Mr Iero's classroom early that day.

Gerard felt like a fucking thirteen year old; he felt like someone who cared, like this could never be casual, and like this was anything but normal, because of course, he had to make such a fucking fuss out of asking Helen where the fuck her homework was, but of course, it wasn't about Helen, it had never be about Helen. Helen, as wonderful, and late with her homework as she may be, was of course little more than an excuse, and Gerard knew that, and he knew that as much as he knew that he'd never even come close to admitting that to himself.

But fuck, fuck him, fuck Helen, fuck Frank, and fuck Lindsey, and god fuck his life, and with such a profanity filled note, the mature and responsible twenty nine year old finally mustered the courage to open an English classroom door.

And within seconds, all eyes were upon him, but his eyes were only on the man he could only assume to be Frank, stood at the front of the room with a white shirt and a black tie, and then what Gerard highly suggested were in fact skinny jeans, and there was no fucking doubt about the fact that this dude was indeed just wearing a cardigan - a fucking beige cardigan, god, that was so English department, god beige cardigans.

This was exactly what Gerard had been worried about; he felt like he was going to be sick, because that was the most unattractive colour of beige on what Gerard couldn't lie to himself about being the most attractive man he reckoned he'd ever seen.

Because Frank was all cheekbones, and perfect bone structure, and bright hazel eyes, and eyebrows so perfect he had to pluck them, and the stupid kind of smile from someone who giggled and laughed at their own jokes, and a fucking floppy fringe that Gerard reckoned he'd copied right off a fifteen year old... and... a cardigan.

Fuck.

Fucking cardigans.

Fucking English teachers.

Fucking Mr Iero.

Which was totally not what Gerard intended on doing, of course.

Mr Iero looked up at him, probably just a little confused as to why he'd opened his classroom door and simply stood there in almost silence for almost thirty seconds now, and finally Gerard seemed to jump back into action again, "oh... uhh... sorry, I haven't had much sleep, I'm like falling asleep all the time, unprofessional, I know, I'm sorry, but anyway, could I possibly talk to Helen about her homework?"

Gerard blushed a little, lying his fucking ass off, glancing across the room, and doing his best not to meet eyes with anyone who looked like they'd totally noticed him fucking gawping at Frank. Eventually he met Helen's gaze, who glanced at Frank, who gave a half shrug, half nod, before she got up and followed Gerard out into the corridor.

"This is about the homework I forgot, isn't it?" She asked as soon as she'd closed the door behind her; Gerard had barely heard, however, because his mind was still inside that classroom, focused on Mr Iero and that stupid beige cardigan, and god how he just wanted to rip the damn thing off him, and maybe the rest of his clothes too, but maybe not, because there was no way he was letting himself, because he was intent upon the fact that perhaps he had just a little more dignity than that.

"Yeah, it is, look, I'm not going to bother with detentions and all that shit - just have it on my desk tomorrow morning, please?" Gerard let out a sigh, far too distracted by the man continuing to 'teach' inside of that damn English classroom.

"I will, Mr Way." She paused for a moment, following her art teacher's gaze to the English classroom door and smiling a little. "Can I ask you a question, sir?"

"Of course you can." He pulled his gaze back to hers, blushing a little, because she'd totally noticed and she totally knew.

"Just how much of a crush do you have on Frank?" She grinned at him, watching as her art teacher's face fell in horror. "Come on, Mr Way, you were staring: all mouth open, eyes wide, and it's not like he isn't cute so I don't blame you, and he is gay, so you do have a chance- do you want me to talk to him for you?"

"Helen, I'm your art teacher, he's your English teacher." Gerard shook his head in disbelief, because what a fucking mess he'd gotten himself into already. "It's not appropriate."

"Okay then, you're gonna have to grow the balls yourself, Mr Way, it seems." She chuckled, watching as Gerard continued to blush like hell itself. "It's so obvious: if you want to hide it, you're going to have to try harder, you do know that, right?"

"It's nothing." Gerard shrugged it off, stuttering and fucking up his words just a little, because he was of course just so damn confident in what he was saying.

"I'm not the only one who noticed, I'm just going to say that, and I think, personally, you should give it a try, because I think he might make you happy; I mean, you're both gay, and I reckon he likes you too, I don't know, of course, but when I get back in, I promise you anything they'll be talking about you, and he'll be blushing."

"Helen... I... I'm not dating... no, it's ridiculous, it's nothing-"

"But you could. You could date him."

"Nonsense, Helen, you know I'd never date someone who wears fucking beige cardigans out of choice."

-

"Close the goddamn door."

Ryan smirked, by some miracle finding himself in Mr Urie's office once again, because it wasn't like Ryan Ross had a habit of stirring shit up just so his favourite teacher could yell at him, and then get slightly drunk in a totally appropriate manner and go on about all kinds of bullshit.

Whatever kind of mess this was, it certainly beat double French, and that was exactly why Ryan Ross had set fire to Jon Walker's head.

It wasn't like he was injured or anything, just startled, and Jon totally got out of French too, so really he was doing a charitable deed here, because French fucking sucked. Ryan reckoned Mr Molko was hot though, but nowhere near as hot as Mr Urie, so it was kind of just a matter of whose face he'd rather stare at for an hour or two as they yelled at him.

Anyway, at least Mr Urie wouldn't be yelling at him in French, so at least he might have the slightest hope of understanding what the fuck he was saying.

Ryan was failing French, to say the least, and he had taken Mr Molko to be one of those teachers you could get on the good side of (or fuck) to fix your grade, but he wasn't having any luck so far, either that, or there was some sort of minimum French entry grade required for the fucking your French teacher club.

Ryan was so bad at French.

"Do you want a drink or something?" Mr Urie asked as Ryan sat down, after having taken so much care and effort in closing his office door, because seriously, that was actually the only thing the head teacher gave the slightest fuck about. "I have some wine, and some tea, and there's milk, but you can't have the wine because you're like twelve, and that's my tea. So, Ryan, would you like some milk?"

"Yes please, sir." Ryan smiled, watching as Mr Urie grabbed a cup from some random draw in his desk, leaving Ryan to try his best not to think about where that cup had come from and when it had been put there, as he poured the thick, white, calcium enriched liquid into the cup.

"There you go." He said, passing the milk to the student that easily wasted the most of Brendon's time in here, but then again, Brendon did little more than waste his own time in here, so it was kind of nice to have some company, even if it was in the form of a probably mentally changed (because seriously this kid set his best friend's head on fire and nearly got him sent to hospital and all because he didn't want to go to French) seventeen year old with a fucking stupid fringe.

"I'm not twelve, just saying, Mr Urie." Ryan smiled as he sipped his milk. "I'm seventeen."

"I know." Brendon let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he looked the teenager up and down in a totally non-sexual manner, because Brendon was a responsible adult and a totally suitable teacher who didn't want to fuck the kid with the stupid fringe who may or may not be a pyromaniac. "What I don't know is why the hell you set Jon's head on fire, like dude, can you explain the thought process here?"

"Sure." Ryan grinned, putting his drink down, because he could see that Mr Urie was getting tired of the serious teacher act already, and that was easily Ryan's favourite thing about him. "So, it's lunchtime, and I have this lighter in my pocket, and I'm not exactly sure why it's there, so obviously it's from God and it's been put there for a purpose, and I've got to figure out what that purpose is, so I'm thinking, and I'm stuck, and then Spencer starts talking about French, and I actually get a genuine urge to hang myself right there in your cafeteria, so be glad I didn't do that, because you might actually have to do some paperwork for that one, and then Jon was like bitching like some fucking twelve year old because he didn't have a hat and his head was cold, and then I had realised exactly why God had put the lighter in my pocket, and now I'm here and not in French, and Jon's head is warm, perhaps too warm, perhaps burnt, but he's not in French, so I totally did him a favour too."

"Would you maybe refrain from setting people's heads on fire if I just took French out of your timetable, because I actually did have to do some paperwork for this one, I mean, I'm getting the nurse to do most of it, but there was some, and I do actually have an allergy to paper and one of the chemicals they use to make it, so there is a medical reason here, Ryan, I'm not being silly like you are."

"You can take French out of my timetable and I really would appreciate it, but when it comes to pulling shit and setting things on fire, we'll see, but I'll go for the things that don't require much paperwork, how about that? But what am I going to do instead of French, because other languages are just as bad, like seriously, I'd try to ensure you have minimal paperwork if you just let me spend lessons I have for French in here with you."

"Ryan, answer me honestly, why the hell do you want to spend time with your head teacher?"

"I don't know, why not, it's better than French and the other languages, like I really don't like French, and you're so unprofessional that it's quite amusing, like you'd probably fuck me over your desk if I asked, wouldn't you, sir?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ryan, I wouldn't do that-"

"Would you, sir, what if I got on my knees and begged?"

"A-Are.. are you asking me to?" Brendon swallowed hard, all wide eyes and nervous silence, until Ryan made him jump with some form of ridiculous, loud belly laugh.

"Your face." He shook his head in disbelief, "goddammit, Mr Urie, your face!"

-

hey pals im gonna die i love this fic so much but i feel like you pals feel me here so thats good ayy, votes and comments would be cool, because you pals are cool ayy?? ayy??? i love you all lots i love you as much as ryan loves milk <3