Frerard: Care to Dance?

I stared blankly at Gerard's beautiful, raven-black hair. Could it possibly be as silky and soft as it looked? And what about the scent? I had always wanted to know how Gerard Way smelled but I could never get close enough. But maybe someday…?

All I knew right then was that, sitting cross-legged on the floor with one elbow on his bare knee and his palm cradling his chin, Gerard was the most gorgeous person in the gym. As he shifted his legs to get into a more comfortable position (his hazel eyes not leaving Mrs. Brite's face), I caught a flash of his boxers peeking out from under his shorts and I sighed dreamily. God, could he GET any sexier?

Unfortunately, about half the girls in the class thought the same and were staring shamelessly at his pale, bare legs…

"Frank, would you like to demonstrate?"

My head snapped upwards quickly, not only to meet Mrs. Brite's angry gaze but also to hide the fact that I had been gawking at Gerard's body.

"I… excuse me?" I squeaked as the people behind me shoved me to stand up.

I stumblingly got to my feet and stood awkwardly, trying to hide as much of my ink-covered arms as possible by crossing them tightly over my chest.

"Well, it seemed you showed no intention of listening so I assume you already know how to do the waltz?" Mrs. Brite said sarcastically. "So would you like to demonstrate?"

It was not so much a question as an order but still, I didn't take a step closer to her.

"THAT WASN'T A QUESTION, IERO." Mrs Brite barked.

I cast a subtle glance at the scoreboard hanging from the ceiling, which substituted as a clock when we weren't playing a timed game. No chance of time running out before I got to Mrs. Brite unless I walked to her slower than a snail with a broken foot.  So I still didn't move.

"Come on Iero, don't be shy!" someone from the floor said, placing a hand on the back of my leg and giving me a gentle push.

That voice. Those fingers. I glanced fearfully down to see if I was going crazy but no, Gerard's hand was indeed on my leg, his now green eyes staring into mine with a hint of challenge in them. But as soon as he saw me staring at his hand, he withdrew it hastily, turning red.

"Just uh… just go!" he stammered, ducking his head so that his hair fell like a fine curtain to hide his expression.

There were several snickers of "faggot" and several sighs of "How cute!" from the boys and girls of 9D, respectively. I, however, didn't care.

That small contact, just knowing that Gerard knew I was alive and knew my name and was willing to touch me, gave me enough confidence to weave my way through the bunch of sitting students, right up to the front where Mrs. Brite stood with her arms akimbo.

"Well it took you long enough." she snapped.

I shrugged carelessly, feigning indifference when inside, my heart was pounding against my ribcage.

The realization that this was a terrible idea and that I should have refused to stand up in the first place, hit sometime between when Mrs. Brite smiled cruelly and when she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards her.

And for two, mortifying minutes, she pulled me along next to her as she demonstrated the basic steps of the Waltz.

Nobody paid any attention to her, I was sure of it. Sure because the gym was filled with the sound of every single person laughing at my horrified expression and total failure to move my feet and body in the right way. Everyone. Even Gerard. I could have cried.

Finally, finally, FINALLY, the torture ended and Mrs. Brite released my incredibly sweaty hand, making a big show of wiping her hands on her sweat-pants.

"Thank you for that… um… thank you Iero, you may sit down." she said with a nearly undetectable hint of venom in her voice.

Blushing furiously, I went back to my place and buried my head in my knees, bringing my legs right up to my chest.

'KILL. ME. NOW.' I thought.

And I could feel everyone's gleeful gazes gawking at the awkward, skinny kid who as well as being known as an emo and a faggot also had two left feet. My skin was prickling, almost as if they were sucking out my utter humiliation.

"Alright, now you all know how to dance the Salsa, Chacha and Waltz. Your final assessment…" Mrs. Brite started, after much too long a pause. God I hated her.

Slowly, I could feel everyone's focus dribbling back to her and the tingling faded until I was sure it was all in my head.

And when I looked up, not even Gerard was looking my way anymore. I released a sigh of relief. Well at least I wasn't the center of attention anymore. Although it had kind of been nice being the center of Gerard's attention, something that I had never been before…

"… in two weeks. You may now choose your partners. Since the tradition for ballroom dancing is for the boy to ask the girl, we will reverse rolls today. So ladies, stand up and choose your gentlemen!" Mrs. Brite finished with a brief clap of her hands. She turned on her heel and started fiddling with the stereo but out of the corner of her eyes, she was keeping an eye on us, I could tell.

Slowly, every girl stood up and as usual, clumped into their various cliques, debating the choice of boys as if it was a matter of life or death. Their worried expressions were so intense that I couldn't help but laugh. It was quiet but one girl immediately spotted me and whispered something to her friend. Who in turn, whispered something to the girl next to her. Who whispered to the next. And like this, the first girl's message way relayed over and over until every single female member of class 9D had gotten the same message: "Whatever you do, don't ask the Goth kid to dance!"

I told myself I didn't care and, to an extent, this was true. I really couldn't care less whether the girls wanted to dance with me or not but it would be nice not to be chosen last for once.

But I had learned long ago that things don't just happen when you hope they do and so I was left until last. And since there was an uneven number of boys and girls, I was stuck dancing with Jim Anderson, the boy who routinely shoved me into lockers and got me very well acquainted with the locker room toilets.

He and I stood face to face, neither of us planning to take the other's hand. Jim had his usual, defiant and completely idiotic look on his face and I met his eyes flinchingly, sure he would punch me in the face any second.

Suddenly, he reached out a beefy hand and I instinctively ducked, throwing my arms over my head. Thankfully though, Jim grabbed the shoulder of the boy behind me, wrenching it and causing him to squeal in pain.

"Switch partners with me or I'll break your face!" he growled threateningly at whatever poor soul had come too close to us.

For a second, I wondered if it was Gerard but, peeking up through laced fingers, I saw that it was not.

"Oh, hi John," I said quietly.

"Iero." he greeted me, looking wistfully over my shoulder at the girl he had been dancing with previously, who was now being dragged away by Jim.

After a short repeat of the moment of awkwardness, when neither of us made a move, John slowly reached out and took hold of my hand. Then, even slower, he placed his other hand on my back. Finally, with the pace of a snail with a broken foot, he pulled me closer to him, staring blatantly over the top of my head, a blank expression on his face.

Again, I felt like bursting into tears. John's whole body was sending one simple message: Get this freak away from me.

We started dancing, albeit jerkily, and made our way haltingly across the gym. John kept his gaze fixed over my head, probably staring at his would-be-partner and I would have been searching for Gerard if my eyes had not been focused on my incredibly clumsy feet.

Honestly, it was like they did the exact opposite of whatever I told them to. Every two seconds, I would either step on John's feet or trip him up but every time, he just started over, silent and unemotional. You would have thought he was being sent to his death. Jeez…
Finally, the inevitable happened and we bumped into another pair, causing both me and the female member of the partnership to fall over each other.

"Ugh, get the Goth kid away from me!" the girl snapped, shoving me hard in the back.

Two hands reached down and both the girl and I reached up blindly to grab whichever one was nearest to us. We then looked up at the same time and gasped at the same time.

"John!" she stammered, and if I had looked back, maybe I would have seen a smile of pure ecstasy on her lips. Kind of like mine.

But I didn't because in front of me were the most amazing pair of hazel eyes, framed by locks of shaggy, dark hair and leading down to a slightly pointed and perfectly shaped nose, elegantly carved cheekbones and a mouth that could only have been created by the kiss of an angel.

"Gerard…" I breathed.

And for the second time in that lesson, a rosy blush painted his delicate, porcelain skin a beautiful, KISSABLE pink.