Ryan could tell Megan practically all of his secrets, because if he knew anything about Megan Clifford, it was that no one ever believed a single thing she said, and it wasn't like they didn't have reason to act as they did or anything.

It wasn't so much that Megan was a liar, but Megan was stupid, and so was even the notion of half the shit that happened in Ryan's life, so they fitted perfectly together for the most part, and it didn't even seem like Megan minded all that much, or perhaps she just hadn't figured out why no one had ever taken her seriously in her whole life yet.

Whatever, it wasn't Ryan's problem, and Ryan knew that he sounded harsh, but he really did have a lot more on his mind that why people might not want to talk to Megan Clifford.

Things, such as, that sex he'd had with Mr Urie- Brendon, the fucking head teacher of this school, and as much as Brendon had promised that things would be the same at school, he couldn't deny that things were definitely awkward between the two of them now, not bad awkward, but I know what you sound like when you come awkward.

Which was certainly an interesting kind of dynamic to have between the headteacher and the school's most hated pupil (which was a title Ryan's science teacher had once referred to him by when she thought he wasn't listening, and one Ryan had been oddly pleased with, and stuck with ever since).

It was certainly something that people hadn't seen coming, and there was no denying that, and Ryan thought that it ever did come out for real, then at least it'd be some seriously amusing shit, like he'd live for people's faces when they found out, and well, hey, Brendon would probably get fired, maybe even arrested, but Ryan had seen Orange Is The New Black - it couldn't be that bad, and he'd totally visit him at the weekends.

Truth be told, if Brendon got arrested and the school got a new, actually competent headteacher, he was pretty damn sure that the whole school - staff and students would revolt and riot, and fucking go down and bust Brendon out of that prison, no matter what cost, because he was pretty damn sure that there were teachers here who hadn't done a single piece of paperwork since Brendon had started, which was of course great for them, but not so great, for well successfully running the place, which Ryan seriously had to give Brendon credit for, like he'd done literally nothing for years and somehow not one single person had died.

That was impressive.

What else was impressive, though, was Brendon's cock.

Ryan knew it was, of course, nowhere near as impressive as his own, like the Empire State Building wasn't as big as his cock, of course he won here, but still, it wasn't a bad dick. Not that Ryan would have really cared regardless, because it was definitely much more than sex by this point, despite how much he found himself struggling when it came to accepting, fucking let alone, admitting that.

Another great thing about being friends with Megan was that no matter what you told her, as long as you claimed it was personal, she'd feel extremely honoured that you'd chosen to tell her, of all people, that Ryan had chosen to tell her, of all his many friends. Well, Megan was the only one who'd passed the initiation test for friendship, not that it was officially that, but Ryan had set Megan's hair on fire and still she remained friends with him, and Ryan had to reward such dedication somehow.

Honestly, Ryan had pretty much royally fucked up Megan's hair - having burnt off a great portion of it off, meaning she'd had to go and get it all cut to even, shorter, sort of neck length style, and the with that short poufy blonde hair, someone had told her that she looked like a hairy lemon, so she'd immediately dyed it darker - some shit red/purple colour, that was only slightly less shit that it had been previously, but at least it was an important of some form.

And that was exactly how Ryan Ross found himself sat with Megan at lunch, telling her about his sex life in detail, and that sex life that he found himself sharing now with Mr Urie, because fuck it if she told everyone, because who the hell would believe her? And when people had so many exciting things to talk about regarding Mr Way and Frank, and the fact that they were apparently not talking to each other anymore, it was like he didn't even exist anymore.

Seriously, though, it was doing some damage to his ego - maybe he'd have to set a classroom on fire, or like carve his name into every wall in school just to remind that he still existed, and was still totally relevant. The carving his name into the walls thing was vaguely amusing, and definitely something unique, and evidently to do with him, and something that would really piss people off, which was definitely what he was aiming for here, so maybe he'd consider an alternative to casual arson this time.

Brendon had asked him casually if he was a pyromaniac on Sunday night, with the two of them laid on Ryan's bed, very naked, but this was after Ryan had stuck his cock in Brendon, because well, if it was during, it would have been perhaps a little bit awkward, but anyway, he'd asked him so, and well with reason, because Ryan had sat there, clicking his lighter furiously for a good four minutes after lighting a cigarette.

Maybe they'd gotten too close now.

Ryan didn't know if he was a pyromaniac or not.

Brendon had told him that he had his suspicions.

Ryan had his suspicions that they were really far closer than they should have been.

Ryan had told him that he had his suspicions that Brendon was an ass.

Brendon had laughed at him. Then kissed him.

Then they'd made out a little, and neither of them cared about whether Ryan was a pyromaniac or not anymore.

He'd definitely consider carving his name into the walls soon. But believe it or not, he wasn't the kind of person who carried a knife around with him casually.

"Hey, Megan-" he interrupted her, now waffling on about how cute it was that he and Mr Urie were 'together', and Ryan was pretty sure that she was beginning to plan their wedding, but he honestly did not have a clue, nor did he want to. "Do you have a knife? On you, right now?"

Megan paused for a moment, laughing, "well, Muddy Warter- I still don't actually know her 'real name', said that Michael was ugly yesterday and I had chemistry with her today, so yes, Ryan I did bring a knife to school. But she wasn't here so I didn't fucking get to use it."

In case Ryan had forgotten why he was friends with Megan Clifford, this was the perfect reminder.

"So, you think I'd be able to borrow it to carve my name into several walls around school?" He asked, perfectly casually.

Megan nodded, "as long as you carve 'Muddy is a bitch' as well. Maybe we should use her real name though, but like I don't know it, it's just Muddy Warter." Ryan shrugged, his eyes widening as Megan pulled a full blown, fucking massive kitchen knife out of her bag and handed it to him. He simply put it in his own bag and thanked her for it, because well, with Megan, it was better not to question things.

Muddy Warter was something like Megan Clifford's arch nemesis, self-declared really, Muddy didn't give all that much of a shit about Megan, but Megan, being Megan, gave a lot of a shit about everything. Muddy had gained her interesting nickname after she'd made an interesting make up choice one day with a really shitty application of foundation that was far too dark for her, looking like she had splashed muddy water all over her face. No one really remembered what her real name was anymore.

But Ryan did know that she'd dissed Michael Clifford, and that was seriously one thing Megan would not tolerate, and he'd learned that first hand - an event that had 'incidentally' coincided with waking up to an odd unfinished stick and poke tattoo of a man on his ankle. Ryan had later learned that this man was meant to be Michael, and as not to offend Megan further, you know, since she was taking art, agreed that it was a wonderful drawing of Michael.

Megan and Muddy did have in common the fact that they were idiots, and that no one ever believed what they said, and that very few people liked them, but Muddy had really no friends, and seemed to be born with an inability to tell the truth, which wasn't helping her at all, and of course, seriously professional make up artist skills. Like seriously, she was so good that she didn't even need a mirror, and yeah, those random black lines of smudged mascara - intentional, those wonky eyeliner wings - artistic, and the worst eyebrows known to mankind - ...'on fleek'.

But as much as Ryan disliked Muddy, he still didn't quite agreed that she deserved being knifed, well stabbed and perhaps bleeding out - like seriously, it was a bigass knife, like even in a place as shit as this, someone might have bothered to call the police, and as much of an idiot Megan was, Ryan didn't reckon that she was murderous, like even he wouldn't intentionally kill anyone, probably, well, at least he'd try not to.

"I think maybe we should carve an interesting picture of Muddy into the walls, like a labelled diagram of her excellent, 'on fleek' features, as opposed to, stabbing her, don't you think?" Ryan suggested, meeting Megan's gaze with a stern glare, thankful that he was the one in possession of the knife right now.

"I wasn't going to stab her!" Megan exclaimed, laughing it off, "I was just going to threaten her, which is fine, I mean, Michael isn't ugly, what the fuck is wrong with her? You get where I'm coming from, don't you, Ryan?"

"Yes." Ryan nodded, forcing a smile, "I totally do."

"Like, you see, if someone said that Mr Urie was ugly, wouldn't you want to destroy them, like you gotta protect your bae, don't you?" Megan continued on, casually.

"Mr Urie is kinda ugly, he's got a big forehead, bigger than his cock, really." Ryan noted, smirking a little, "I might write that on the walls too: Mr Urie's forehead is bigger than his cock. I mean, telling the people the truth, enlightening them - I'm a bit like Jesus, aren't I?"

"Yes!" Megan exclaimed, her eyes widening, "I love the bible! I love it so much I printed it all off at school and that's why you're barely allowed to print anything at all anymore-"

"What?"

"I was going to change it into a Lashton fanfiction, but I realised that Jesus doesn't really have a gay love interest, and I thought that was extremely homophobic so I'm not a Christian anymore-"

"I don't think you were a Christian in the first place-"

"I printed off the whole bible!" Megan exclaimed, looking genuinely offended, "of course I'm a Christian. Look, I'll even carve some bible verses into the walls just to prove it. You know, this wall thing is a great idea, because they can't wash it off - they can't get rid of the truth, so I'm gonna write 'Michael Clifford is beautiful. I love him', also maybe a shrine to Mr Petty-"

"It's my idea. I get to decide which particular profanities and inappropriate bullshit we get to carve into the walls of the school with a massive, quite frankly frightening knife that you brought into school to stab Muddy because she called Michael ugly."

"Fine." Megan rolled her eyes. "Only if you say that Michael is beautiful."

Ryan rolled his eyes, "Michael is beautiful."

"Thank you." She got up from where they were sat, "where do you want to start? The toilets?"

-

Frank had found himself looking forward to school less and less, because there had indeed been a point when he'd actually vaguely enjoyed being there - getting paid to do very little, getting paid to make sarcastic remarks and then spend time with one of his best friends, but that friend now hated him, and sarcasm was no use to him anymore.

His pupils had began to notice his lack of enthusiasm for pretty much everything, and that really wasn't helping the rumours, considering that if both Gerard and Frank seemed pissed off and hateful of school at the same time, it most definitely meant that they'd broke up - no questions asked, because they had of course been in a relationship.

Of course, those kinds of rumours were the last thing on Frank's mind, as he had not only his lost friendship with Gerard to worry about, but what Gerard could be saying to people about him, of course, what Brian had, and kept saying to him, especially about Gerard, because seriously what could Brian know?

And of course, Max. Max who he didn't speak to all that much, despite dating and living with, fuck, he probably made more sarcastic remarks about Gerard on a daily basis than actual conversations he had with his boyfriend.

And Frank didn't know what the fuck to think about that.

Really, Frank didn't know what the fuck to think about anything right now, and he had even less of a clue as to what he was supposed to do about that.

He was unhappy.

Fucking, of course he was unhappy.

He knew that.

He just didn't know how that mattered at all.

Because what could he do?

Gerard hated him, and was definitely never going to speak him again, and Frank sat there, mentally digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole as he tried not to think about anything for too long for fear that he'd ruin his life with worry - something that he knew he was entirely capable of.

And so, he sat there in an empty classroom, room sixty eight B, come lunch time, picking at a shitty sandwich he'd thrown together that morning as he tried and failed not to fuck things up further, because it was all too much.

He wondered if there was something wrong with him, because he just couldn't react to anything like a normal person anymore, not that the word normal had ever held all that much in the way of meaning, but still, he found himself redundant, useless, pathetic - a mess, a wreck, a sad fucked up guy sat in a room alone at lunch because his best friend hated him, and he couldn't quite bring himself to admit to himself that he was unhappy with his boyfriend.

And he was also desperately trying to avoid Brian Molko, because everything he'd said to him over the course of this mess had been the most mind boggling shit known to man, because one day he'd been telling him some cryptic bullshit, and then that he was a terrible person for not apologising to Gerard, and then that Gerard was the worst person to have ever walked the Earth, and Frank quite honestly felt like stabbing himself through the arm so he could get taken to the hospital and stitched up and some time off school, because he seriously couldn't face his own life anymore.

And that did all sound horribly depressing, and he knew it.

But he knew it as much as he knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He was his own limitations, he was the person he never wanted to become, and worst of all, this sandwich tasted like shit.

And worse still, Frank had gotten so caught up in how terrible his sandwich was, not to notice the classroom door opening and closing again as someone entered.

The figure stood there, just watching Frank, unnoticed for a good minute: every step quiet and tentative, watching him pick at the sandwich and then give up and lean back in his chair, and then, then of course have an actual heart attack as he turned his head and noticed the fact that Gerard Way just stood there a few meters away from him, staring.

"What the fuck-" He exclaimed, unable to process anything, wondering if Gerard had simply walked into the wrong room, or if he was here to murder him or something, and if that was the case, Frank seriously encouraged him to do so, but that wasn't the case.

"Frank... I...." Gerard began, letting out a sigh as he brushed his hair away from his face, "I... I'm fucking sorry, you know? I don't hate you. And Lindsey told me you don't hate me either, and I really don't know if that's true, fuck I don't care if it's true, I just... I'm sorry, Frank, I really am."

Frank bit his lip, unable to think, let alone form some sort of response, let alone one that made sense, let alone one that appropriately conveyed his current emotions.

"She said you're back with Max..." Gerard trailed off, making his way over to Frank's desk, meeting Frank's gaze and praying to god that Frank wouldn't use the now shorter distance between the two of them to easily punch him in the face. He wouldn't blame him though.

Frank nodded, "y-yeah... I... we... are..." He let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and trying to avoid Gerard's gaze, to avoid Gerard's existence even, but curiosity would always get the better of him, "I'm sorry too. I don't hate you. It's just... I don't know what's going on... everything's so... fucked up... and I can't place why and it isn't helping that I can't talk to you about things, you know? It really fucking isn't-"

"Then talk to me, please, Frank, please, you can trust me, I promise." Gerard let out a sigh, "I've been a dick to you, okay? And I should just accept you and Max as you are, that you're happy with him, and I need to back off-"

"But I'm not."

And that was the first time that Frank had even really admitted it to himself, and it had been aloud, it had been to Gerard.

-

hey pals !!! hope u enjoyed this piece of trash & if u did it would be cool if u could vote && comment pls !!! would be v v cool lov u v v much !!!