What had happened with Gerard just hadn't be able to leave my head over the past few days, thoughts of him and his lips and more importantly what he could do with them, littered my brain like stars in the sky. He was impossible; impossible at being perfect, and it was really starting to irritate me, but in a good way. A good way because I knew I could enjoy this, he'd give me the rights to his lips, and that both confused me and meant the world to me, as most things regarding Gerard seemed to have developed a certain bittersweet habit of doing.

Kissing Gerard hadn't be something I'd expected to happen, but something I wouldn't change nonetheless, it was just unexpected perfection that brewed out of nowhere and something became something that mattered, because now it matter, we mattered, if there even was a 'we', but we mattered and we mattered a hell of a lot; I'd managed to decide upon that one for myself.

It did, however, do nothing to help decrease the increasing number of thoughts I had about Gerard, but I guess maybe they weren't quite so bad right now, since they were kind of tangible and less stalkerish, there just was the fact that after we'd kissed we hadn't really talked at all. We'd just found ourselves enjoying a comfortable silence and one another's company in a world collapsing around us. He was awfully reluctant to let me go, though, and the same could be said for me - we both needed one another more than either of us could express, and it was both destroying and perfecting our reality at the same time.

Mikey's words didn't quite leave my head though. It was a few words in particular: 'He just thinks you're pretty.' I was just scared that feelings Gerard and I had shared weren't exactly mutual. I began to in fact wonder if he could even feel anything at all for me, with all that madness and psychopathy that clouded that head of his, but I couldn't believe anything but what we had felt was mutual.

Mutual was just assumed: it seemed like sparks- fuck, maybe even love. But I didn't know what love felt like, I didn't know at all, but the close thing I had to love (if it even existed, for that matter) was Gerard Way, and there was no way in hell that I was going to let that- let him go.

Even when we were just pressed up against one another, wasting the world away, it felt a lot better than anything had ever felt. It's what I'd imagine being high would be like, because all the imperfections had been washed away in a flood of all things Gerard and nothing seemed to matter except the two of us. Everything was euphoric and painted in an addictive light of momentary and selfish perfection. Perfection was a selfish concept from whatever angle you looked at it; it was selfish to desire, selfish to envy, selfish to have.

It just felt like the two of us were the only people in the world. It felt like flying without the need to ever come down, but I did have to come down. We had to leave and then the reality came back to both of us; Gerard had to go take his medication and I had to get home early to avoid having my ribs shattered by my 'father', and then everything didn't seem quite so perfect anymore. Because this was real life and nothing ever quite was, but you believe me, I was fine with pretending. I was especially fine with pretending I was in a bubble away from this universe with Gerard.

And I think, I think it's the perfect moments, no matter how small they are keep us going through everything else, because they make it worthwhile. Gerard makes it worthwhile for me, even when nothing else can, and I think everyone needs someone like that, or the whole world will surely go insane.

Gerard makes everything worth it, and I really do hope it's not as Mikey says, and that it's the same for him. There's a part of me that tells me that he does though, and I just don't know if that's instinct or optimism yet, but I guess time will tell, but I never was the patient type, yet this time, everything seems to be different. Not bad, not good... just okay. 

Okay was more than okay with me, though.

And for once I find myself content with the ever ticking clock leading into endless states of reverie and nothingness, because I have Gerard to guide me through, and I wonder whatever else a royal mess like me could ever want from life.

-

But it's horribly apparent that the perfect moments have to end, and the four prison walls of Belleville High School do an awfully good job of reminding me of that: the kids colliding with their own locker doors, the arseholes, the sluts, the bullies, the freshmen who seem to be even more clueless than me, the careless teachers, Mikey Way and the Killers. Doesn't that sound like a fucked up collaborative music act. 

Mikey Way and The Killers - featuring their hit single 'Mr Gayside' and 'Everything Will Be Alright (But Not For Frank Iero).

I heard them before I saw them; their maniacal laughter echoed off the walls like tribal chanting and I felt the backlash of the crowd pushing against me as people moved like a parting sea to avoid their wrath. I should probably have hidden too, but I can't exactly crawl into my locker and it's not as if they hadn't already spotted me yet. They are just moving in for the kill - they don't call them The Killers for nothing.

The metal of my locker door slammed against the side of my body as Skully slammed his lanky frame into the lockers beside me, a coy smile upon his face. "Iero, got out of the music room did you?" He raised his eyebrows at me in a mixture of confusion and sarcasm. My eyes scanned over his cronies who stood behind him lifelessly and only to boost his ego; Mikey wasn't among them. This was a first in months.

Should I be relieved that he's not tormenting me? And should I be thankful that maybe now he's fully on my side, or should I be scared for him? Should I be questioning where he is and exactly what Skully's done with him? Should I even bother caring about someone as heartless as Mikey Way? I don't know the answer to a single of the aforementioned questions, and as they constrict my head, pulling and tearing at my grey matter constantly.

I hate how anxiety tears my mind apart like a single sheet of paper, but this paper isn't plain, it's weighed down with thousands of words etched into it in varying colours of ink and angles as straight as myself. The anxiety just rips with little regard for the words, and all the words- the thoughts can do, all my broken thoughts can do is let out a series of raspy screams, panic and try to make connections that aren't there. They're stumbling hopelessly in a darkened mind that the beast of anxiety shadows over.

"Yeah..." I stumble out not the most eloquent of responses, my mind unable to function properly as it's too busy worrying unnecessarily about someone like Mikey, along with attempting to repair the thousands of physically broken connections, but with such a strong tear, it's not having an awful lot of luck, leaving me stood here like a quaking mess, only existing for Skully to laugh and poke fun at.

"How did someone as stupid as you manage that?" He snapped, taking a step closer and slamming my locker closed. We were uncomfortably close, and my first instinct was to back away and back away as far as I could, but of course that was cowardice, and Skully wasn't having any of that on his watch, despite the fact that cowardice was practically what defined him.

"Maybe you should re-evaluate my intelligence, Sam." I wasn't sure what had compelled me to go for Skully's real name, better known as his weak spot, but when I approached the subject of Gerard with Mikey that seemed to go fairly in my favour, not that I was planning on picking off The Killers one by one - that'd surely be the most foolish of plans, even for someone like me. I just thought Skully needed taking down a notch or two, and down a notch or two he would go; I'd make sure of that, even if it would kill me, and by the way things are, it most likely would at this rate.

"Maybe you should re-evaluate where you think you stand, Frank." I gulped as soon as he said my name; it hurt to know that he still remembered it from when we were civil to one another years ago and he still found himself incapable to address me by it as opposed to a derogatory insult of his poor choosing. Memories of being civil to Skully were odd memories, in fact, Sam and Skully did actually feel like two different people entirely, and you couldn't blame me all that much, because they acted a hell of a lot like it.

"Oh, so you do remember my name, Sam. Tell me why you feel the need to hide behind a fake name?" My words were laced with poison and came with courage inspired by my little shot of Gerard shaped heroin last night.

'Gerard shaped heroin.' I made myself laugh with that one - it was an odd, yet surprisingly accurate description and I wasn't sure whether the dysfunctional combination of aforementioned factors was to be of my concern or not, but then again, with a life like mine, you couldn't blaming me for not being able to tell anymore. I used to think my almost boyfriend wasn't even real, and if that isn't the definition of insanity, then I don't know what is.

"Maybe so I don't have to remember ever knowing little faggots like you!" And before I could recognise what was happening, Ash and Vince were carrying me by my arms and feet as if I was on some sort of human stretcher, and they were carrying me to my deathbed surely, because it really did feel like it.

"How about you try your chances at escaping again? Maybe if your little fag boyfriend can't bust you out I wonder how you'll get on." That really took a sting, a terrible impact maybe not, but certainly a significant one. It just didn't quite add up that entirely well, or rather, my brain didn't quite want it to.

I wanted to reply with a simple and sassy, 'wrong Way brother, try the oldest,' but I doubted anyone, even Mikey would take that awfully well, then again, I swear Mikey hated Gerard more than I did, and the two of them were blood related.

He thought Mikey was my boyfriend. Wow- shit! It suddenly occurred to me as to what the hell they could possibly be doing to the younger Way brother, and I found a shred of maturity within me that allowed me to push my disliking for the boy aside to care about his wellbeing, because despite all of this mess, Mikey was still important, maybe just because he kind of cared, or maybe just because somehow he'd helped me end up kissing the red haired, mildly psychopathic, sex bomb he called his brother.

"What-" I couldn't finish my sentence as the music classroom door opened and I think we were all rather surprised to find that it was not in fact empty and was actually occupied by a six foot tall guy with strands of curly brown hair spurting out to form a mildly dysfunctional afro. I hadn't seen this guy around school before, but judging by his smart attire he looked to be someone of at least mildly authoritarian.

"Put him down." His voice didn't come out in shout, but in a stern tone nonetheless. The Killers were like deer in the headlights, because I don't think they've ever come across anyone who's opposed them before, and whoever the hell this guy is, he's already my friend. His tone surprised them more than Mikey setting me free could ever do, or if they found out that I actually didn't quite mind a bit of dick.

"I said put him down." By the second time, The Killers got the hint and I felt Ash and Vince simultaneously dropping me so I landed on the carpeted floor with a painful thud. To say it hurt, would have been an awful understatement.

As the guy got up and walked over to my mildly crippled body, I noticed The Killers escaping and bolting down the corridor before the afro guy could do anything about it, however he seemed more fussed regarding my state of injury rather than their violence, which was a good thing, because nothing - no one could stop The Killers, and Skully was making more than sure of that.

I managed to sit up, my groin practically screaming out in pain, making sure I had to lean back against the wall. Breathing in slowly, I threw my head back, hoping that the blood pressure up there would sort itself out and I wouldn't end up fainting in front of a guy I'd just met, which probably wasn't the best of introductions. I wasn't sure it'd quite scare him, more of put him in an awkward situation for someone you've just met.

"Hey, are you okay?" He bent down to my height, watching me with a concerned gaze, his brown eyes watching me with deep set concern. This concern before startled me and confused me, because how could someone like him, who didn't even know my name, seem to care just so much about someone who barely mattered to him - it was all a trick of course. Maybe it wasn't concern, maybe it was just the light- fuck, and did I sound mental? I didn't know anymore, like fuck.

"I'm fine." I forced my lips into a smile at him, but really my head was pounding and my hearing amplified to the extreme. I could barely cope and I felt almost as if I'd been exposed to an excruciating overdose of hallucinogenic drugs, causing my brain to feel as if all the nerves endings had been suddenly been exposed and stabbed at relentlessly with an unfortunately sharp needle.

"You don't look fine." He noted the obvious, before sitting down on the floor in front of me. This guy was odd, and confusing for that matter. He seemed to care too much, yet didn't seem to press the matter. He was a figure of authority, but didn't seem to abuse or push that authority down onto people below him. He seemed to demand respect, yet give it at the same time, and I was beginning to think that the guy was entirely just a hallucination.

"You got me." I joked, not entirely in the mood for humour and my voice coming out more sarcastic and bitchy than I had intended, him didn't seem awfully fazed though - this I had to be thankful for. Most people didn't take well to my sadistic sense of humour, Gerard didn't quite mind that much, which was most likely due to the even more sadistic sense of humour he had, but for someone like him, surely that was to be expected?

"I'm Mr Toro, the new music teacher." My eyes widened at that - shit this guy was actually a teacher and he bothered to give a shit regarding my problems. That was a first. The rest of the teachers here just managed to accumulate the maximum wage for the minimum workload, and that was really not the best approach if any parent sent their kid here with even the slightest hope of them being educated.

"You're a teacher?" Okay, I maybe I sounded a little bit too surprised, but he just laughed in response; he was definitely an alright guy. Even for a teacher, he was an alright guy- not even an alright teacher... a guy, a human. Okay, saying teachers weren't human was a slight exaggeration, but they definitely were close, that was for sure. Especially the ones that physically resembled rotting plastic bags, and literally looked about two hundred and could barely leave their chair without giving someone a detention.

"This is my first school, but yeah, Mr Toro. You can call me Ray outside of lessons though." He smiled at me, and I began to wonder if he was only be nice to me because of what he saw happening and whether this was kindness or just pity expressed in a different form. If it was differently expressed pity, he definitely did a convincing job when it came to discreetly expressing it; I could give him that at very least, even if I did have a habit of despising required sympathy.

"I'm Frank, Frank Iero. I'm a junior." I introduced myself in quite possibly the blandest way I could have, but really what else could I say and still manage to convince him that I was in fact fairly sane.

'I thought my not quite boyfriend was imaginary until recently.' Yeah, that'll soon good. 'Also he's a psychopath and his brother kind of hates us both.' Just the average small talk, you know. Casual, of course - nothing to see here apart from the freak show someone fondly titled 'My Life'. No, now that one, that's the most ridiculous. I wasn't quite that much of a pansy, or at least I'd hoped, but fuck it, things really do turn out how you wouldn't expect.

"Do you want me to take you to the nurse?" He looked concerned at how I was holding my head as if it was about to topple right off, which it did actually feel like doing so. Therefore, I couldn't entirely blame him awfully that much in that department, but whatever.

I just didn't understand how someone that chose to be a teacher wasn't naturally born to despise children, teenagers and anyone under the age of thirty. Or maybe it was just the fact that this guy looked about the youngest teacher in this school at what I approximated to be the age of twenty five.

"No, I'll be okay." I reassured him, my voice coming out in an awfully weak tone which didn't do wonders for my reassuring, but you know what? We can all be good at everything, and someone, in this case I have to be the human equivalent of a piece of dog shit when it comes to being pathetic. This most definitely really wasn't the best of qualities to be born with, but you get what you're given, I guess.

"Are you sure?" He sounded unconvinced, but I just nodded as sincerely as I could, and thankfully he didn't press the matter further, being an alright guy, and all. Mikey had a particularly annoying habit of doing the exact opposite, meaning he had now been outranked, by the fucking music teacher. Wow, I didn't expect this. "So who were those guys?" I groaned, knowing this question was coming soon enough. I didn't quite know how to explain the dickheads that were Skully, Vince, Ash, Zachariah and sometimes Mikey to Mr Toro- Ray. Ray sounded better, Ray fitted him, and Ray sounded human.

"They like to call themselves 'The Killers'." I felt almost sick just from saying it aloud, simply know just how ridiculous I sounded and in turn just how ridiculous they were. It was nice to know that not everyone was scared of them, though, even if the only exception was the new music teacher who'd probably quit like within in a week, because this school and they definitely wouldn't be what he was expecting and they definitely wouldn't make the one week he lasted easy for him in any way, shape or form.

"What like the band?" He raised his eyebrows, just as bemused with the mildly egotistical name The Killers had branded themselves with. But at least he had good music taste- well, I suppose he was a music teacher, so at least he could basically differentiate between auto-tune and singing, unlike the majority of the population seemed to be unable to.

"I don't think they actually know of the band, to be honest, but I'm going to compliment your music taste." I forced a smile at him, glad to be proved wrong with my theory that all teachers were assholes for once. I generally didn't like being proved wrong, but I think I can make an exception for this, because Ray was a genuinely nice guy, but of course there would be strings attached, as there always were. My current best assumption as to what these strings were was that he'd be gone from my life entirely within one short school week - five days. That's all he'd last at the most.

"It’s nice to see a student that doesn't listen to all that bubble-gum auto-tune pop crap." It did seem like I was the only one though, which was awfully depressing; this generation really was screwed up in the head. "Does this happen a lot?" He didn't need to specify for me to know what he was referring to, and I didn't think either of us wanted to really hear the answer to that question spoken aloud.

"No." I lied. 

"You're a bad liar." I shrugged it off, not answering his question directly and choosing to dodge round it, as I always seemed to do, but with some people it was necessary. I didn't like to think Ray was one of 'those people', but I'd only just met the guy, so I couldn't be fully sure at all. "How long has this been happening?"

"It’s been happening since middle school." I said it awfully casually and it felt weird to hear it aloud, to think that this was actually a real event that had occurred. What was worse was when I found myself barely able to recall a time when it didn't happen, because if that wasn't depressing then I didn't know what was.

"Jesus!" He exclaimed, almost a little too shocked to allow me to be fully comfortable with what he had said. "Why didn't you think to tell someone, get them to stop?" I'd tried, believe me, it was just getting someone to care enough was the problem. Teachers were paid to 'teach', not sort out shit like this.

"You're the first teacher to give a shit." I'd only realised the profanity I'd used after I'd said it, but thankfully he didn't seem at all fazed by it, which gave me more evidence to believe that Ray was really the best teacher I'd ever encountered.

"Is this school really that bad?" Now that was a funny one; he clearly wasn't going to last a week, and by now I began to care enough about him for that thought to dishearten me, and this was exactly the place I didn't want to be in.

"Aren't all schools?" I asked as if it was the obvious, well really, it was, but maybe my theory that all teachers came from a different planet wasn't proving to be quite so false after all.

"I don't know, man - I went to Catholic school." He paused for a moment, his face making it clear he was deep in thought. "You tell me if this happens again, I'm going to stop them, okay?" I sighed aloud; it was this persistence and optimism that wasn't going to last him the week, even if he did.

"Good luck with that." I muttered a little too sarcastically, finally feeling the strength to get up with the support from the wall, it was good to be able to stand again, and even though my legs felt like spaghetti I was going to leave as soon as I could.

"Hey-" He chuckled a little at me. "They shouldn't be allowed to get away with this, though."

"The world's fucked up." Thankfully he wasn't fazed this time either; Ray Toro was a pretty cool dude, even if he was a teacher. Teachers were like the natural enemies of high school students, but Mr Toro didn't seem that bad.

"Yeah, it is." He paused, looking me directly in the eye. "Trying to make a difference is what counts though."

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