Chapter Text
New starts can't be that bad, right? Well, that's what I thought too, but now I'm second guessing it. So far only bad things have come from moving. At the beginning of summer I told my girlfriend and the next day she dumped me, I told my band and got kicked out, which I guess reasonably it makes sense but still fuck them.
This city is so fucking stupid. It's full of yuppies and geezers. I just want to go back to Jersey.
And now, here I stand, my board in my hand in front of this preppy-ass school. You'd think (or at least hope) that I was exaggerating but as soon as I got off that plane the first thing I saw was a storm of Vineyard Vines and Ralph Lauren and Tommy Hilfiger.
But whatever, I'm in front of the school, and even though I really want to scream from nerves right now, I suck it up and walk in.
I go to the front office and get my schedule, and great I've got history first period, which means I get to be bored for the first hour of the day.
Room 167, I read as I walk down the hall and get to a closed door. I gather my courage and place my hand on the handle, breathing in a shaky breath as I open it.
"-and that's the basics," the professor looks over at me as I walk in and give an awkward kind of wave, feeling like all my weight is caving in on me, "oh, you must be Frank." She says as I walk in slowly.
"You can sit next to…" she starts to say, looking out into the room for an empty seat, "Tucker! Sit next to Tucker."
"Who is-" I ask. How the fuck would I know who Tucker is? Is it that dorky ass kid with shoulder length brown hair and glasses?
"Tucker, raise your hand." She says, and it was.
Lucky guess.
I carry my bag over to the seat and sit down (obviously) and he doesn't pay me much mind besides a smile which made my heart flutter a little, and to be honest I could get used to that.
After a while the teacher (which I didn't remember to listen for the name of, fuckin' idiot) leaves, saying something about making copies for a worksheet. This is what I was nervous about. I anxiously tap my finger on the table.
You see, the thing about being a 'freak' or a 'faggot' or whatever other word that starts with an f that they want to put what I am under, is that when the authority figure leaves the room, everyone points fingers and throws insults. Y'know why that is? They're a bunch of bootlickers. All they care about is the praise that they never got from their dad even though he was always there, but I'm trained to be different from them. I'm a middle class punk kid who hasn't had a dad in a while. But to my surprise, I don't hear anything negative, just a surprisingly raspy voice from beside me.
"Frank, huh?" He asks and I hum in response, "like Frankenstein, or Frank N. Furter?"
"Oh, Furter for sure." I reply playfully with an airy laugh that he chuckles at in response. Again I get that feeling that I'm gonna push away until I'm alone later.
"Just thought I'd give you a choice for your nickname." He replies casually.
"Oh, what a gentleman," I say, trying to be just as casual, but I can definitely feel that I am blushing and I can definitely tell that he noticed, and I can definitely see that he also is.
Wait, he also is?
The bell rings, and for multiple reasons I am so excited that it did because oh my god what just happened? Why did that happen?
Okay, trying to stay normal, next class.
–
Once I finish my first 4 classes I go to the cafeteria because I have lunch period, the other thing I was nervous about. Where the hell am I gonna sit?
I walk down the stairs and hopefully I'm going the right way, but I feel my heart in my throat so I push it back down to where it should be.
I make it to the godforsaken room with little trouble and look around while looking (hopefully) not that pathetic, when I hear that familiar voice.
"Hey Furter!" He shouts
Man, I really didn't think he was serious about the nickname thing.
I turn around, and there he is, that same smile that I really don't want to think about. Across from him at the small table there's also a tall dude with blonde hair. I smile back and he beckons me over with his finger.
"What's up?" I ask, hands in my pocket as soon as I put my headphones back around my neck.
"Wanna sit with me?" Tucker asked even though he knew the answer was yes.
"Yes," I replied a bit frantically, visibly picked up by Tucker when he tilted his head to the side, "I mean, yeah, yeah totally." I try to play off with a tight smile.
I sit down next to Tucker, slightly wary of the other guy. Tucker, I guess, picked that up, because he immediately introduced me to him.
"Oh shit yeah-, Frank, this is Anthony. Anthony, I told you about him already." Tucker says and Anthony smiles at me.
"What's good man?" He asks, and I'm glad he keeps it casual because I've already had like 12 handshakes today.
"Yeah, nothing at all," I reply, nodding as I chew on my lip ring a little, "how about you?"
"Oh, I'm better than ever." He replies, seeming rather genuine.
We have good conversations all around. Anthony's bi, which is something that I don't know much about, considering that I only like girls, but he's cool so I don't really care. Plus, not to stereotype, but he doesn't look straight exactly. He has combed back hair and wire framed glasses, so like I could put two and two together. That stuff doesn't matter to me though. I couldn't care less what you like, as long as you aren't a prick. I think all those macho guys from the 80's that hate gays are just closet cases and things didn't work out with their highschool boyfriends.
After the period ends I have art history, which is cool cause it sounds like I don't have to do much. I walk up the steps to the third floor, when I hear that familiar word.
"Hey fag! You suck dick with that mouth?"
Man, I was doing so well. But when I look back to see the guy, he walks right past me, and right toward the person behind me.
A tall, pale person with long black hair to be specific. He walks them into the side of the staircase.
"Can we not do this everyday?" They ask, a tired expression on their face as they carry a portfolio and a thermos. I kinda just stand there, they haven't noticed that I'm here, but I can't just leave while this guy beats their ass.
I sigh and put my shit on the ground. God am I gonna regret this.