Frank's entire face was tense as he pressed his phone between his shoulder and his ear, trying to shuffle the essays on his desk out of the way so he could find his emergency cigarettes. "Look—I know it's not really the time, but—"

"Jesus," Jamia said, her voice muffled down the receiver. She sounded ruffled and exhausted, like he'd woken her up. He wasn't surprised. "It's fucking two AM."

"I know, but I really need—"

"If you're drunk and this is some sex thing, I swear to god I'm hanging up right this second." She sounded like she'd dealt with this sort of shit before. Frank shifted his phone on his shoulder, and sat down, guilt weighing him down a little too much.

"It's not, Jams, I'm not that bad anymore. I just need a damn hug or something, I feel fucking sick."

A crackling sound passed down the phone, and Frank guessed that Jamia was probably sitting up. "Slow down, what the fuck's wrong?"

"All my work's so late, and the principal wants me dead, and that's not even the fucking problem, I'm just fucking—"

"Frank. Frank, hold up. I'm, fuck. I can come over if you want?"

Frank started to feel a little bad for taking up Jamia's time now. She'd been hopeless for Daisy for weeks, and he didn't want to get in the way. "Not if Daisy's over, you don't have to. I'm just." Frank rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "I just." He probably just ought to fucking say it. "I just jacked off to a student."

There was a silence, then a brief thud, probably a door closing. Frank didn't have to see Jamia's face to know that she was giving him The Look. That look she'd been giving him since they were kids. 'I don't fucking believe you.'

"I don't fucking believe myself either," Frank muttered. "This is a whole new level of fucked up."

"Talk about fucked up. I'm pretty sure you just broke like six laws."

"Please don't make me feel even worse about this."

"This is practically the worst thing you could have done! I don't wanna be a hardass here, but you kind of deserve it."

"Jams," Frank moaned. "It was just a dream and I was all riled up, he was on the surface of my mind, I didn't mean to." Frank gave Gerard's jacket a kick. "Fucking. Fucking Jesus."

"I'm not sure even fucking Jesus would be worse than this."

Frank made a pained sort of sound, and slouched into his desk chair. "And I can't find my fucking cigarettes. Fuck, I need a walk anyway."

"You need to go to church, motherfucker."

"Right," Frank muttered. "I'll stop off at the local church, confess my sins, then get arrested by the fucking priest. Sounds like a great night out."

"Oh, come off it. Priests can't arrest people. And they definitely can't tell on you."

Frank grunted. "Well, I'm not going back to that place. I'm going to the 7/11, you need any cat food?"

"It's past midnight, you goddamn idiot. And you know Daisy's got me stocked. She works at the pet shop."

"Right, right, old habits. I'll just be. I'll be at the 24 hour convenience, then. Wallowing in guilt."

"You have fun."

"I will. While you're lying cozy in bed with your fucking legal girlfriend."

Frank heard Jamia laughing for a second, and then the phone went quiet, and he stuffed it back into his pocket. At least she was trying to keep things light.

The guy at the 24 hour place hardly looked happy to see a customer—he was far too interested in watching some all night marketing show for a steam cleaner on the tinny, box-shaped TV mounted on the wall—but he smiled a little when Frank offered to buy him a pack of cigarettes along with his own. "Thanks, man."

"It's cool. You look pretty run-down," Frank said. "I had the graveyard shift once at Burger King in college. Worst decision of my life."

"I can't imagine why," the guy drawled. "What d'you do now?"

Frank handed over a fistful of change, then shoved his hands into his pockets before they started shaking. The guilt was coming over him again. "I, uh, work at the high school down the block. It's pretty nice, I guess."

"Good hours, I bet." The guy tore the receipt out of the printer and stuffed it into the bag with Frank's cigarettes and vodka.

"Sure." He took the bag, and smiled again. "It was nice meeting you, pal."

"You too," he heard the cashier say behind him as he left the store.

It was almost pitch dark out, but the lampposts went a long way, and the moon was up in the sky. Frank could see the stars. He wondered if Gerard was looking out of his bedroom window.

Laughter echoed down the road, and Frank heard the colloquial drawl of Belleville teens coming from the park. Glass clattered against concrete, and then Frank heard Gerard's name, and stopped walking. He went to look closer through the railings—five kids were spread out on the ground by the playground, staring at the stars and passing a bottle around. And there was Gerard, mixed in with all these normal kids, pressed against a pretty girl wearing a short skirt. Frank felt a little sick and knew he ought to leave, but Gerard looked really drunk and sort of pathetic, and none of the kids looked old enough to drive, so he said Gerard's name and started to walk over.

"Mr Iero?" Gerard said, bewildered. "What are you doing here?"

"A little late night shopping," Frank said candidly. "You guys know you're not supposed to drink around here, right?"

A few shrugs and guilty looks went around the group, and now that Frank could see them closer, he recognised them all as students. The big kid with the backpack propped himself up on his elbows and said, "Sorry, sir, I brought the beer."

"It's alright, I just wanna know that you guys are okay, and that you won't be doing this again." He tried not to eye Gerard too much. He'd thought the kid was better than this—but then again, Gerard's judgement was easily swayed when the stars were involved. "I know we're outside of school, but this isn't a good place to be at night, and I want to call all your parents, okay?"

Dewees looked a little like he was going to throw up, and Frank realised he should probably try and salvage what he had said so it didn't sound like he was one of those teachers.

"I won't tell them you did anything wrong," Frank said reassuringly. "Just that it's late, and that it would be safer if they came to collect you."

"But I was gonna take the bus," the boy wearing pink said.

"That's better than being outside, but what kind of people d'you think are going to be out here, getting the bus at this sort of time?"

'People like you, maybe,' Gerard held back.

Frank collected each parent's number and called them all in turn, but when he got to Gerard, he was refused. "Mom is two towns down," Gerard protested, his voice slightly slurred. "Visiting my cousin. You'll wake her up for nothing."

Frank sighed. "I could walk you back to your house, I guess?"

"It's a half hour walk," Dewees said, pulling a face. "I really don't think he'll make it."

Frank scrubbed at his face. "I'll get the bus with you then."

"Fine with me, if you pay," Gerard mumbled, despite the fact that he had a free disability-issue bus pass. It didn't matter, though. He was testing.

Frank huffed out a laugh, and agreed. Next thing he knew he was sitting at the front of the bus with Gerard, staring at his hands and wondering if he could possibly be doing anything more stupid than this. He was hardly paying attention anymore, tired and vaguely guilty and in need of a smoke. And the next thing he knew after that he was lying in bed at home staring at the ceiling like it had insulted him, and Gerard was asleep on his couch because apparently he was in fact capable of doing something even stupider, and somewhere far, far in the distance he could feel Jamia rolling her eyes with such immense exasperation she could shatter stone.

—

this took 3montjs 2 write i hate myslef