Frank was drunk - again, which really wasn't anything new; the only exciting thing about this occurrence was that he was at home this time, instead of at his favorite bar, and it was very relaxing getting shitfaced in his own room without having to worry about driving home.

Usually, he didn't really have a choice. His fake id was sketchy, and that was being generous, so he was generally turned away at the liquor store with a rude remark about getting his life together, which he probably deserved.

Frank was only seventeen after all. He really shouldn't be this dependent on alcohol already, but luckily for him, a new guy had been manning the register, and he hadn't glanced twice at Frank's sad attempt for a driver's license.

He never had any problems at the pub though; for some reason, they had no qualms with his forged id. He had made friends with all of the bartenders there by this point, so they never even asked for it anymore.

Frank hadn't been in the mood for company tonight though, which was why he had shut off his phone, ignoring the forty or so odd messages from his best friend Pete. He - of all people, should understand that Frank wanted to be left alone today. It was very fortunate that his adventure into the liquor store had been a success, or else he wouldn't be drunk right now, and Frank needed the alcohol flowing through his bloodstream - especially tonight.

Frank had been ensconced in his room for the last two hours with only his bottle of vodka for company, and that was perfectly okay with him. His mother had gone to bed ages ago, she had to work early in the morning, and she was the last person he wanted to be around - especially today.

Frank was currently contemplating his sad existence in silence since he was too lazy to stand up and turn on some music. That might wake his mother anyway, which was not something he wanted to risk right now, and nothing on television was interesting enough to capture the attention of his fuzzy brain, so why not ponder how he had ended up this way?

Some people can't pinpoint the exact moment that their life began to spiral out of control, sometimes it just happens, and not everyone has a reason for turning to alcohol, or drugs, or whatever vice they chose, but not Frank - Frank knew all too well why he was this way, not that it helped him at all.

It started two years ago, exactly two years ago to the day to be precise. That was the day Frank's father had walked out on them. When you put it that way, it doesn't actually seem too bad; parents get divorced all the time, but that was the beginning of the end for Frank.

His father hadn't walked out for just any old reason, he had been cheating on Frank's mother for ages, but not with a woman - no, it was a man that had captured his father's attention, and even though Frank didn't care about his father's sexuality at all - his mother had.

His mother had no clue that this was coming, and honestly - neither had Frank; not until his father had randomly blurted it out of the blue one day before gathering his stuff and leaving to be with his new lover. Frank understood the way his father was feeling, especially since Frank was gay himself. He hadn't worked up the courage to come out quite yet, but now he never would, at least, not to his mother.

After his father had left, Frank's mother became an avid homosexual hater, blaming all of her problems on the "disease" that had afflicted her husband, and she was insufferable to be around if the topic was ever brought up. Not that she had ever supported it before, she was a very devout Catholic after all, but now she hated gays more than murderers and rapists.

If that was all that had happened though, Frank might have still been okay, but it wasn't. Even though Frank realized he could have it so much worse, he wanted to drown in pity tonight, and there was no one around to tell him to suck it up and get over himself, so Frank wasn't going to.

Because even though Frank didn't care if his father was gay, he did care that he hadn't seen him since that day he had walked out of their lives. At first, Frank had thought that his father just needed some space, and he would come back eventually, to visit Frank - if for no other reason, but Frank hadn't so much as received a phone call from the man who had been his rock for fifteen years.

Before the "giant gay fiasco" - which was what Frank had started calling his father's departure in his head - Frank had been insanely close to his father. He had been Frank's best friend, along with Pete, but Frank would much rather hang out with his father for a day, because there was only so much of Pete that he could take.

Frank truly loved his father, but it seemed like the emotions were no longer returned, and that was one of the main cracks that had destroyed the happy fifteen year old. Frank pretended that he didn't care, he acted like he didn't give a shit if he ever saw his father again or not, but that was the biggest lie in the world, besides when Pete told his parents he was straight; Frank still couldn't believe they hadn't caught on to their son's homosexual tendencies yet.

It seemed as if Frank's father was trying to act as if Frank had never existed, and no matter how hard Frank tried to contact him, and he had - Frank had basically reached full-blown stalker level trying to get a hold of his father, he never once returned his calls, or even sent him a fucking letter. Frank got the hint, he knew his father was perfectly happy running off with his gay lover that Frank had never met, and he didn't want any reminders that he used to be married to a woman, or that he had a son, but it still fucking hurt.

And maybe Frank would still be okay, even with the fact that his father wanted nothing to do with him if his mother provided any modicum of support, but she didn't, of course she didn't.

At first, she had just been heartbroken, which was completely understandable. Frank had tried his best to be there for her, offering whatever support he could, but once her wounded emotions began to heal - that was when things got crazy.

Linda Iero was a bit of a basket case; she always had been, but before Frank's father had left, it hadn't been that noticeable, just little oddities here and there, like swearing she saw a dog in their yard, even though Frank could never catch a glimpse of it, or hearing things that no one else did. Frank had always brushed these occurrences off, blaming them on Linda's overactive imagination. He never imagined it was the symptoms of something serious.

Her emotions were always all over the place as well; one minute she would be fine, and the next, she would break out in tears for no obvious reason, but Frank hadn't thought anything of it. That was just the way his mother had always been, so he assumed it was normal, but when his father took his leave, things spiraled out of control rather quickly.

The first day it happened, Frank had been scared shitless. He had returned home from school and he was in his room listening to music when his mother had walked in with a murderous look on her face.

"Frank - what the fuck are you doing here?" she hissed at him, fear and hatred clouding her eyes as she spoke.

"Um...I live here mom?" Frank had no idea what was going on, and he wasn't sure how to react to his mother's strange behavioral shift.

"Not anymore you don't. Go back to that faggot you love so much and leave me alone!" she screeched, picking up a random book and throwing it in Frank's direction.

That was when it had clicked, and Frank realized that his mother thought he was his father - who was also named Frank. Not knowing what to do, Frank rushed out of the house, dodging various objects his mother hurled at him as he ran. He spent the next few nights at Pete's place, too afraid to go home and face his mother again.

Three days later, his mother called his phone. Frank let it go to voicemail twice before finally picking up.

"Hello?" Frank answered in a shaky voice.

"Baby - where have you been? I'm so worried about you!"

"Uh - just at Pete's place." Frank wanted to ask her what the fuck had happened, and why she couldn't remember throwing him out of the house, but he didn't want to remind her of the episode in case it happened again.

"Can you come home? I miss you," his mother pleaded.

"Yeah - I'll be there soon..."

So Frank went back, despite Pete's advice that he shouldn't just forgive and forget so easily, but this was Frank's mother. She was all he had, so he ignored his best friend and gathered up his stuff. Frank was met at the door by a sobbing Linda. She immediately pulled him in for a hug, and she refused to release him for a good five minutes.

"Don't you ever leave me baby...I need you okay? Don't end up like your father," she sobbed against Frank's shoulder as he patted her back awkwardly.

"Okay mom, I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

Frank truly hoped he would be able to keep his word, and he prayed that whatever had happened before was a one-time thing, but it wasn't - of course it wasn't.

As the years passed, Linda Iero steadily fell apart; some days she thought Frank was his father, or she just treated Frank like shit for no reason, other times she refused to let him out of her sight because she was afraid he would leave her, but the worst was when she ignored him completely as if he was a ghost.

Frank did his best to disregard his mother's constant mood swings. He knew she wasn't trying to be hurtful to him; she was just psychotic, or schizophrenic, or something, and he tried his best not to take her words to heart, but that was easier said than done. Over time, Frank began to believe his mother's spiteful accusations, and eventually, he began to hate himself almost as much as she seemed to when she was having one of her fits.

Frank had always been self-confident when he was younger, even though he had been a bit chunky, and he wasn't the most attractive person. He had never seen those flaws as negative before, but now he could hardly remember a time where he had been happy with himself, even though he had lost quite a bit of weight, and he supposed he was decent looking - he just felt like shit inside.

The normal times became few and far between, and Frank never knew what he was going to come home to. He realized his mother was sick, and she needed help, but whenever Frank would try to broach the topic with her, she would brush him off with a laugh, reassuring Frank that everything was fine.

And Frank didn't have any clue what to do, because it wasn't like he could force his mother to admit herself to a mental hospital, and he would be sort of screwed if she did; Frank was only seventeen after all, so he couldn't live on his own just yet, and he really didn't want to be shipped off to some foster home while his mother was institutionalized.

Because of this, Frank grew up far too fast, and he felt like the parent, taking care of his mother, instead of the other way around. Frank became the one who was making sure the bills got paid on time, and he ended up going to the grocery store when they were running low on food, because his mother couldn't be bothered. Somehow, she still managed to retain her job as a secretary for some law firm that Frank had forgotten the name of; he wondered how she acted there, and if anyone else had noticed her oddities, but she hadn't been fired yet, so that was a good sign. Maybe she just saved up all the crazy for home.

But even though Linda brought in a very decent paycheck, she wasn't smart with her money, and she rarely remembered to give Frank any, so he ended up having to find his own job to pay for the things that Linda deemed unimportant, like school supplies and clothes.

Frank had a hard time finding employment, because he was still in high school after all, so he could only work limited hours, but finally a restaurant hired him as a dishwasher/sometimes server. It wasn't a bad job, and Frank got to eat the leftover food, which was a major plus for him since he didn't always have enough money for groceries that week.

When he started his job was when Frank had fallen into his alcohol addiction, because the restaurant had a bar, and even after that was closed, there was a pub across the street, and all the guys went out for drinks on a regular basis. They never asked how old Frank was, and he never mentioned the fact that he was underage, and before long, getting drunk after work was a daily ritual. Even when his coworkers decided not to go out for the night, Frank almost always did, and now he could barely make it a few days without some form of alcohol passing his lips.

Smoking came not long after that, and for pretty much the same reason. Most of his coworkers smoked, and Frank picked up the filthy habit quickly. The nicotine in his system wasn't anywhere as soothing as a shot of liquor, but he became dependent on the slim sticks that managed to calm him down when he had no other options at hand.

It was tough on Frank, having to learn how to balance the checkbook while trying to pass all of his classes, and working as well, but he managed, and even if he was slowly dying inside, there was nothing he could do about it.

They were staying afloat though, and that was all that mattered, and that was the best Frank could say for the fucked up mess that had become his life.

At least Frank had Pete, because after his father had made such a spectacle of coming out, Frank had lost all of his other friends. He went to a private catholic school, and even though Frank hadn't told anyone what had occurred, one of his classmates happened to be his neighbor, and of course they had blabbed to basically the whole school, and now everyone treated Frank like a leper. They acted as if being gay was a disease, and if Frank's father was gay, then Frank must be as well, and even though he was in fact gay, they had no proof of that, but either way, Frank was the school outcast now.

Frank had begged his mother to transfer him into the local public school where Pete went, making the very logical argument that it would save a large amount of money, but she had refused, saying that he wouldn't get as good an education there, which was probably an accurate statement, if the stories Pete told about the teachers there were true, but Frank didn't really care about his education - not anymore.

What was the point when Frank knew he could never afford to get into college? He still wanted to pass high school of course, it would be almost impossible to get a higher paying job without a diploma, but after that, Frank had no plans on furthering his education.

He already knew exactly where his life was going to go; Frank was going to get a slightly better, but still shitty job, and end up watching after his mother for the rest of her life, hopefully he would be able to convince her to attend some kind of therapist when he got older, but he had his doubts on that, and as much as Frank would love to move away and forget about all of this the second he turned eighteen, he couldn't, because this was his mother, and even if she didn't love him anymore, she was still the only family he had left, and he wasn't going to abandon her.

Pete was the only one who knew everything Frank was going through, and he didn't judge him, quite the opposite actually. They had been best friends since they were four years old and Frank had showed Pete that play-doh tasted good, and he was the only person who Frank trusted with his secrets. He provided a place to crash when Frank needed to get out of the house, and even more importantly, a shoulder to cry on when Frank lost it.

Pete also helped Frank discover his second vice, which he might be even more addicted to than alcohol. When Pete had been questioning his sexuality, he asked Frank if he would experiment with him, just so he could find out if he really liked guys. Frank didn't have any romantic feelings for Pete; he loved him, but more like a brother than anything else - well maybe not a brother, because that would be incest, but basically, he cared about Pete a great deal, just not like that.

Frank agreed though, because he was a horny sixteen year old at the time, and he couldn't date anyone at his school because they all hated him, and he didn't mind helping Pete out in this. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, just to find out if Pete was gay or not - which he was, but after that discovery was made, they continued to fool around.

Frank found this odd sense of peace in the act of sex, it could calm him down, even on his worst days, and just for a little while, Frank could forget about all problems. Frank explained this to Pete, and he completely understood, so they became best friends/fuck buddies.

Pete got the fact that Frank just wanted the physical attention, and that he didn't really feel anything for Pete, and Frank made sure he knew that they could call this off whenever Pete - or Frank - got a real boyfriend, and even though fuck buddies usually don't work out, and one or the other typically ended up developing feelings, they didn't.

Frank found that being with someone else felt even better - not necessarily pleasure wise, but for his fucked up self-esteem at least, because even though Pete was willing to sleep with Frank, he had known him for years, and Frank knew he cared for him, but when it was a stranger that wanted to be with Frank, the feeling of being needed and loved intensified a thousand fold.

Frank knew that these random one night stands didn't mean anything, and that his hook ups really didn't care for him, but like a typical, misunderstood teenage girl with daddy problems who turns to other men to find acceptance, Frank craved that feeling of intimacy, and he began to look forward to being picked up at the bar more than getting drunk.

Because underneath Frank's tough guy exterior that he presented to everyone else - besides Pete that is, Frank was really an insecure mess, and his mother's words has sunk in so deep, he was actually starting to believe them.

Frank didn't think he was worthy of love, or affection, so Frank needed those random strangers who bought him a drink and told him how hot he was. He craved another person's body heat pressing down on him, he soaked up the muttered compliments as they pressed inside of him, because that was all Frank had, and for those few moments, he actually felt beautiful, and wanted, and loved, even if it was all a lie just to get in his pants.

Frank knew he was a pathetic slut, but he was past the point of caring what others thought of him - well actually he did, but he still liked to pretend that he didn't.

And Frank truly believed that a drunken hookup at a bar was the closest he was going to get to love, because if his mother didn't love him, and his father hadn't even cared enough to call him, then how could anyone ever feel any sort of affection toward him?

All of this ran through Frank's head as he drained his bottle of liquor, and even though he would never tell anyone about this - not even Pete, tears were falling down his face as he truly realized what a fucking mess he had become in such a short amount of time.

Frank didn't cry - not anymore - not even around Pete, because it didn't help anything, it just made him feel even more pathetic, and what was the point in shedding tears over something that he could never change. Pete always tried to encourage Frank, telling him that this was just a rough patch, and things would get better soon, but that was a lie, and Frank knew it.

This was his life now, and that wasn't going to change unless his mother magically got better, which didn't look likely, and Frank was just going to have to live with that fact, which is why he turned to booze and sex, because they helped him survive, and he needed any support he could get, and that thought just made Frank cry even harder, trying his best to keep quiet so his mother wouldn't hear him.

Frank sighed when he glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table after wiping his watery eyes, even though more tears spilled out as soon as he did that. It was already three in the morning, and even though he didn't have school tomorrow - it was still summer vacation for a few more weeks, he had quite a few errands to run, not to mention work later in the day, and he knew he needed some rest.

It was hard to fall asleep while he was choking back sobs though, but Frank did his best, curling up in a ball to try and lessen the ache in his heart that hadn't gone away ever since his father had left.

Eventually, Frank did drift off, and he forgot everything in the peaceful oblivion of sleep, but he knew that when he awoke, it would all come crashing back down, and he would have to face another day of being Frank Iero, which was really not the best motivation to ever want to wake up again.

So I swore I would never write a teacher/student Frerard, because there are so many of these already, and none will ever be as good as Tell Me I'm a Bad Man, but I finally gave in and decided to try my hand at it.

I am going to attempt to write this a little differently than most of the ones I have read, and I am not going to get into the teacher/student part right away, but it will end up there eventually.

I am actually super excited about this fic, because for once I have most of the plot planned out already; usually I just wing it when I write, but not this time.

I will hopefully have the second chapter posted some time next week, I just wanted to post this teaser so I would motivate myself to actually work on it. I'm a little bit burnt out after finishing Tell Me I'm an Angel, but I don't want to put off starting this fic for much longer, or I might lose motivation entirely.

Just so you know, this fic is going to contain a lot of sensitive topics so I highly recommend you read the tags and the summary before you go any further. I haven't labeled each individual instance because there is simply too many of them so this is your only trigger warning you will receive.

This is dedicated to rosielovesmcr for convincing me to write this, because without her, I might have decided not to, so thanks for the support.

((((excited vibes))))

<3 starr