Our Foundations from Decay

Gerards POV

Monday afternoon and I had the most boring class for the last period— maths.

I finished the worksheet in a flash, wanting to get it over with. I was overcome with the excitement of what was going to happen after school.

I started at the scribbly paper in front of me as my pen added more doodles to the artistic collage I had made on the back of my worksheet.

I watched as the ink on the paper formed Frank's ethereal face, one which I associated with comfort and familiarity.

My admirable gaze was lost in a trance at the sketch before me. Of course, my 'Daydreaming and Doodling' session had to be abruptly stopped.

"Mr Way," said a gruff voice, I looked up to meet his stare and noticed his sagging cheeks flapping around as he spoke, "Drawing in during maths? This isn't art class, Way." He scolded.

"Yeah, yeah sorry I guess" I muttered.

Who cares? I finished my work anyway.

"And you defaced your worksheet no less!" For some reason, he was fuming about that.

"Office, Mr Way. now. I wish I was teaching your brother, instead. That boy doesn't doodle."

Ugh, again with the teachers comparing me to Mikey.

I huffed out of my seat, snatching my bag and slamming the door behind me.
What a British, old hag.
Hey, I appreciate teachers and all that they do for us, but I will not tolerate being constantly compared to my brother. Just cus he's better at maths and doesn't draw in class, they always assume he's the better brother— the innocent little angel who can do no harm and I'm his evil demonic older brother. They don't even try to understand me or the way that I work, I learn differently from Mikey, but we're both smart.

As I was in my head, thoughts rambling on, something completely diverted my attention.

The boy who I knew all too well, the one who I associated comfort with.

He seemed to be sitting in his own pensive thoughts.

I approached him, gently stroking my gloved finger on his cheek to grab his attention.

"Hey", I said as his closed, brooding eyes jerked open.

"What're you in for?" I asked impishly, the boy staring up at me, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light that surrounded me.

"Angel." He said under his breath.
Is he talking about me?
A warm blush rose to my cheeks.
I quickly hid the flustered smile that was creeping on my face with my gloved hand.

"Did you tell Ray bout' the band?"
I continued.

"Ah! I forgot!"

"You... Forgot. Why?" I crossed my arms, shooting him a glare with one eyebrow raised higher than the other, tutting at him.

"Stupid kid threw a paper plane at me. I threw it back, and you'll never guess how that turned out." He then gestured evidently around him and slumped back in his chair.

"pfft, sounds like a pain. Bet that brat deserved it though," I said, taking a seat on the ground next to Frank. I leaned my head back on the wall so I could get a better look at my boy. No, he wasn't exactly mine yet, but he will be. I'm gonna make him mine soon. I saw his lonesome arm hanging off the side of the chair, fingers relaxed, and decided to clasp his hand in mine. I looked like a toddler holding onto his mom's hand to cross the road, but I didn't care, I simply embraced the moment and leaned my head on his hand, cheek rubbing against his warm, bare hand.