Work Text:
He could be a sinner
Rem Dogg hated him. Every time Frank walked in the room, it made his skin crawl, and he could barely look at him. And every time, Frank was boasting about some criminal act. Arson, theft. Pfft, as if he could care less. However, the worst thing was, as he went on and on about how he got away from the feds, Mitchell was absolutely transfixed.
Or a gentleman
Frank was a rude, obnoxious idiot, who didn’t give two shits about anything or anyone. That’s just how he worked, how he always had worked. Alone. So why did he always hold doors open for Mitchell? Give him his last fag behind the maths block? Why was Mitchell special to him? Mitchell was his. He was always meant to be at least...
He could be a preacher, when your soul is damned
Lunch was usually his favourite time of the day. You get to bugger off from lessons, have a smoke, get some food, add some more graffiti to the toilets, it’s great. Of course, because of that prick, he never saw Mitchell anymore. To add insult to injury, when they came back after lunch, Mitchell was raving about how “Frank’s such a good listener man.”
He used to complain to Rem about his problems... Of course, when Frank came back in, he would pipe right down, but he would blush and smile for at least 15 minutes.
He could be your lawyer on a witness stand
It was ridiculous. Mitchell hardly ever got in trouble any more. It wasn’t like he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but Frank was always fucking there to stick up for him.
“He couldn’t ‘ave been graffitiin sir! He was wiv me behind the maths block.” Frank protested
“And what were you doing there?” Alfie asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Revisin’ innit.”
It was infuriating that he went red whilst saying it. So what were they doing then? Rem didn’t want to think about it. He just went home and sulked in his room. But he didn’t cry. He fucking didn’t cry.
But he’ll never love you like I can
He. Didn’t. Fucking. Cry.
Not even when Frank walked into Form K holding Mitchell’s hand.