Frank had decided a walk was the surefire cure to all his problems, and well, it wasn't like there was anyone around to argue with him, so on a walk he went, slipping in his earbuds and drowning out his severely distressing life as an English teacher at the world's worst high school with the sound of his rather questionable music taste: some indie alternative band playing in his ears, you know, the real underground music, that only cool fucking people who knew about music listened to, like this was real music and no one else understand, like Frank felt so fucking unique and special listening to his favourite obscure indie alternative band from England that he ought to cherish his originality and music credibility for listening to.

There'd be no point even mentioning what they were calling, or what song he was listening to, because of course, they were so fucking special and obscure that you just wouldn't have heard of them.

But Frank felt more at peace with himself as he listened to the obscure British singer speak to him through meaningful lyrics, in which he asked questions such as, 'have you got colour in your cheeks?' and, 'Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift?', but yeah, you wouldn't have heard of it.

As the song finished, Frank found himself fuelled with a suitable level of angsty, with which to sit somewhere and glare at the public, and hope desperately that it would rain, you know, just to fucking ruin the day of everyone who didn't have an umbrella, because Frank was in such a good mood, of course.

Well, this was Gerard's fault, Frank was certain of that by now; all he seemed fixated upon doing was getting Frank to break up with Max, and as his angst levels had risen considerably in the past few minutes, Frank knew he most absolutely could not listen to anyone's advice, especially the advice of anyone older than him, and that he most absolutely shouldn't talk to anyone about this, or even think rationally about his problems, because yes, angst solved everything.

And Frank found himself deadset in that belief as he sat down on a bench and pulled his knees up to his chest, lighting a cigarette and smoking it like he was someone who ran a grunge blog on tumblr, featuring well known grunge artists, such as Marina and the Diamonds, and 5 Seconds Of Summer.

Frank cringed a little, 5 Seconds Of Summer reminding himself instantly of Megan, who really needed to calm the fuck down about him and Mr Way, as besides Michael Clifford, it was pretty much all she talked about, and of course, something called Lashton, but Frank didn't know and didn't want to know just what the fuck that was.

Megan wasn't essentially a bad kid, she was just, 'special', Frank laughed a little too himself at that, because he reckoned that there wasn't a single kid at school that was by any means 'normal', nor any teacher for that matter, fuck he wasn't even normal; he was the gay English teacher who had to be fucking Mr Way, with the unpronounceable last name, and in inability to teach at all.

Frank groaned a little, leaning back on the bench, and jumping a little as the space beside him filled. As he jumped, one earbud fell from his ears, and suddenly he felted severely misunderstood and nowhere near as special without his favourite obscure indie band.

"You look happy." The girl beside him commented, her voice laced with sarcasm as she let out what was close to a snort. Frank turned to her, fixating his face upon hers properly, and finding himself recognising her: a student, not one he taught though. "I'm Chantal," she explained, "Gerard teaches me."

"Gerard?" Frank raised his eyebrows at that, because seriously who the fuck did this girl think she was calling him Gerard? "You call him Gerard?"

"Yeah," Chantal was stubborn in her response, "we're friends outside of school."

"Oh yeah, because that's perfectly legal." Frank commented, deciding then and there that he did not like this girl at all.

"It's not like we're fucking, Frank, I mean, that's you and him, isn't it?" And there was no way around the fact that Frank's cheeks were burning up in response.

"We don't fuck, Chantal, and quite frankly, it's none of your business, but I have a boyfriend, he's called Max, he's lovely, and Gerard's just my friend." Frank bit his lip, wondering whether Max was really so much of his boyfriend anymore: unable to place where he stood, whose side, and all that, because well, in his head, everything was one hell of a fucking mess.

"Max have a tiny cock, does he?" Chantal asked, pissed off with the English teacher, and with the guts to do anything at that point.

"What?" Frank retorted, his eyes widening a little, "how is this even-"

"Well, if he had a big cock, well big enough, you wouldn't need to compensate by going out and buying massive dildos-"

"Gerard told you that?" Frank exclaimed, about to punch her, or well someone, anyone in the face.

"No, Frank, I told Gerard that. I was the one who fucking saw you." Chantal snapped, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"What the fuck were you doing at a sex shop?" Frank asked, his cheeks turning a really unflattering shade of scarlet.

"Having a better sex life than you, by the sounds of it," she let out a sigh, meeting the teacher's gaze, "he likes you, Gerard, that is, well of course. Don't tell him I said anything, but he likes you Frank, and I thought he was making that damn well fucking obvious, but I think you really are a whole new level of stupid-"

"Likes me?" Frank exclaimed, shaking a little and forgetting to breathe for a good four seconds.

"Likes you, Frank." Chantal got to her feet, taking Frank's cigarette from his hand and stubbing it out on the floor, "do you think you can figure out what that means? And don't fucking smoke, it's bad for you."

And as she walked off, it all become suddenly clear as to how she and Gerard were close; she was almost as much of an ass as he was, and being such an ass, she couldn't be serious.... could she?

-

"You did what?" Gerard found himself exclaiming the next morning, sat at his desk with a cup of coffee already half finished before he'd even touched it - fault of Lindsey, who was furiously attempting to mark something she should have finished about four weeks ago.

However, in the midst the mess Gerard found himself in, Lindsey drinking his coffee seemed almost irrelevant, and seriously yes, that was just how much shit he found himself in.

"I told him the truth." Chantal continued, having made her way into Gerard's room early that day, reckoning he might deserve to know just why Frank might end up screaming at him.

"It's not the fucking truth!" Gerard exclaimed, his eyes widening so much that Chantal found herself wondering if they might pop out, and in turn, what she'd do if they did - probably take a photo for her tumblr, in all honesty.

"It is." Lindsey looked up from her marking to add, reaching across for Gerard's coffee and taking another sip as he put his head in hands and had some form of minor breakdown.

"Yeah," Chantal added after a moment, "and you can't run away from it anymore - so technically, I did you a favour, and hey, if this ends up getting you laid, then I fucking expect an A*, you got that?"

"She has a point." Lindsey shrugged a little, putting the coffee down and placing a hand on Gerard's shoulder, "you do need to get laid, and hey, Frank's a reasonable guy, and he's reasonably attracted to you. I mean, maybe this wasn't the best way to do it, but it got the job done, didn't it?"

"She fucking went and told him that I was in love with him!" Gerard exclaimed, "how is that good? How is that in anyway beneficial?"

"Because you are." Chantal continued, remaining oddly calm throughout the conversation, "and you should always be honest - I was just giving you the gift of honesty, wasn't I?"

"The only 'gift' you were giving me is this headache that I'm going to use to go home-"

"You're not fucking running away from this!" Lindsey burst in at that moment, grabbing his wrist, "you can't just avoid Frank forever: he works here, you see each other daily."

"Fucking watch me." Gerard was determined, far too fucking determined, and Jesus Christ, Lindsey wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face right then and right there.

"Gerard, that's a fucking terrible idea." Chantal added, biting her lip, "okay maybe I should have asked you, but he was being an ass and he totally got all fucking jealous when I called you Gerard instead of Mr Way, his face was practically like 'only I can call him that'. He was really pissed off and upset as well."

"So he was pissed off before you did this?" Gerard exclaimed, in a state of complete disbelief by now, "so basically he's twice as pissed off?"

"Who knows? Maybe the revelation that you love him made his day? Maybe it made him happy, maybe it changed things?" Lindsey tried again, letting out a sigh as she pushed her marking aside, wondering if she should maybe try and hunt Frank down before he had a chance to encounter Gerard, and one of them would inevitably make things at least a thousand times worse than they needed to be.

"Maybe it made him hate me?" Gerard raised his voice, "ever fucking thought of that? Ever fucking thought that I care more about our friendship and his happiness than the fact that I wouldn't mind fucking him?"

"So you do want to fuck him." Chantal smiled a little, missing the point entirely, "just thought I'd never really hear you admit it to yourself."

"Chantal, you know it's seriously not a fucking nice situation to be in, you know, liking someone who's got a boyfriend, who he loves, and still needs you to be his friend and be there for him, and you want to be there for him, but the more time you spend with him, the more you fall for him. It's fucking hell, and it's my life."

Gerard threw his head down against the desk, biting his lip as he struggled to figure out just why on Earth he reckoned that admitting that would have ever been a good idea.

Lindsey got up, pulling Chantal away from Gerard as he kept his gaze away from them, "I'm going to talk to Frank, try and fix this?" She whispered, before throwing Chantal the most sympathetic smile ever.

Chantal let out a sigh, wondering what kind of state Frank could possibly be in, and indeed wondering whether it was her or Lindsey who got the better deal here, as she sat down where Lindsey had, "okay, maybe I shouldn't have just yelled it at him, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, maybe." Gerard pulled his head up off the desk, tucking his hair behind his ears and biting his lip, "fuck I really need a smoke, you know? But that's exactly where he'd be, smoking, and I don't want to talk to him, god I can't fucking talk to me- fuck, how long will this go on? Long enough for me to quit?" He laughed a little at that, biting his fingernails as he did so.

"Hey, maybe you should quit? You know seeing the good in everything?" Chantal offered, totally fucking making this all up as she went along and just hoping for the best, and trying to suppress her genuine shock as it was working. "Like hey, you have to avoid Frank now because he knows you're in love with him- well, actually, I didn't say that, I just said that you like him, which actually doesn't sound half as bad-"

"It has exactly the same connotations." Gerard sighed, wondering just how he was expected to continue with his life after such a drastic disaster. "But yeah, I guess I could try to stop smoking - it only make me more agitated, but-"

"It gives you something to blame it on!" Chantal exclaimed, her face lighting up with a grin, "because if people ask and they're like you and Frank aren't speaking is that why you're so pissy? And you can be like, 'no, it's because I stopped smoking, so suck it!', but maybe not the last part, but maybe actually yes, because it's not like you're going to get fired, no matter what you do."

Gerard nodding, shrugging a little, "I guess," he glanced at his coffee, "fuck, Lindsey drank it, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I mean you were too busy having a mental breakdown to notice, like that was when I knew it was serious, because she was drinking your coffee and you didn't know-"

"Hey..." Gerard rolled his eyes, "Chantal, look, I'll forgive you if you go to the staffroom and get me some more coffee, what do you say?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's a pretty good deal," she gave the art teacher a smile, getting to her feet, coffee mug in hand, hoping that anyone in this school started giving enough of a shit to realise that she shouldn't be getting coffee for her art teacher in the time it took her to get to the staffroom, but well, Brendon ran this school, so it was safe to say that the aforementioned was fucking extremely unlikely.

-

Ryan made his way into Mr Urie's office only a few hours later, experiencing some serious confusion as he found it empty, and reckoned that maybe he was just getting coffee or went to the toilet, and just sat down, in Mr Urie's chair, of course, and eagerly awaited his return in a totally non-homosexual way.

However, the clock on his wall had counted a good twelve minutes, and the room was still empty, so Ryan concluded that Mr Urie was either taking a really big shit or had died, and with that conclusion, he decided it best to open up his laptop and see what he could find.

When he first opened it up, he was presented with a screen demanding he entered a password, and he was quite honestly proud of Brendon for going this far with security, because it most certainly wasn't something he'd been expecting, but still, it was Brendon, and Ryan found a sticky note reading 'password: 420blazeit69' stuck to the underside of his desk.

The seventeen year old laughed a little, not even questioning it as he typed the password into the laptop, smirking to himself as it let him in instantly. He then considered putting the note discreetly back where he'd found it, but no, that wasn't quite his style. He grabbed a pen from Mr Urie's desk and scribbled 'note hiding skills: 0/10. Ryan' on the bottom before sticking it back vaguely where he'd found it.

He glanced back up at the door, wondering if he should start to be even just a little concerned as to Brendon's whereabouts, just on the off chance he'd been kidnapped or murdered or locked into a room or something, but knowing Brendon, he was probably just at Starbucks, or hadn't bothered to come into school today and was just wondering if anyone would notice.

Ryan grabbed his phone, sending Brendon a quick, 'lol nice laptop password' text, that equally conveyed humour and his concern for his whereabouts, before putting his phone down on the desk and found himself in search of Brendon's instagram, because he found himself severely disheartened and offended with the fact that Brendon had neglected to tell him it.

Ryan, of course, had a better way to find out, and hell, he could even post something extremely embarrassing on it, but it was when the instagram website loaded that Ryan instantly knew why Brendon hadn't told him his instagram, for a start, the username was 'daddyzayn69'.

Ryan smirked, picking up his phone once more, texting Brendon the following, 'I thought you didn't like 1D', and not even thinking twice before taking a picture of the laptop screen and sending that too.

But only as Ryan began to actually look at his posts, did he realise that Brendon was literally running a One Direction smutty imagines account, well it wasn't really One Direction because Zayn wasn't in that band anymore and there was a strong focus on Zayn, but fear not, because Harry, Louis, Niall, and the other one were included too.

When he picked up his phone to see that there was still no reply from Brendon, he decided that he absolutely had to tell Megan about this, sending her the same picture he'd sent Brendon, and following it up with 'this is Mr Urie's instagram. I'm not kidding!!!'.

Just a few seconds later, Megan replied with what definitely topped this all off spectacularly: 'What the fuck I follow him! That's my favourite account! Can you tell him to follow me on my account, xxmegancliffordxx?'.

Ryan didn't even quite know how to form a response to that at all, only laughing his ass off before texting back a simple 'no.'.

And as he found himself typing facebook into the address bar, the door burst open, and Ryan had been right, because there stood Mr Urie, Starbucks in hand.

"You should have told me you were coming into my office - I would have gotten you a drink," he said perhaps all too nonchalantly as he closed the goddamn door behind him, perhaps not having quite noticed just what Ryan had been doing.

"How could I? It's not like you checked your texts, is it?" Ryan exclaimed, laughing a little.

"Wait, how did you- are you on my laptop?" Brendon exclaimed, his face a perfect picture of 'o fuck', as he grabbed his cellphone and proceeded to curse as he read over the messages.

"You know, Megan? She follows you on instagram. Says you're her favourite account - wants a follow back." Ryan leaned back in his chair like the world's smuggest motherfucker.

"Can't do that!" Brendon exclaimed, shaking his head and sitting down where Ryan should be, "not supposed to interact with students on social media, am I?"

"What about me?" Ryan asked, looking somewhat offended.

"Considering that you're in about two lessons a week, I don't know if you really even count as a student anymore."

"Oh, so that's your excuse, daddyzayn69?"

"Please don't call me that."

"What's the problem, is this embarrassing you, daddyzayn69?"

-

lmao today was my first day back at school I'm dead it was not a gr8 experience !!!!! vote and comment pls !!! lov u guys !!!