Frank didn’t see Gerard the next day, or any of the other boys in the fight. Well, except Mikey, who walked through the hallways with stitches in his nose and his face swollen, obscuring what was a great bone structure.
Gerard showed up the day after, looking totally fine except, God, did he look exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes made him look like a raccoon. He trudged through the hallways, barely lifting his feet from the ground. He seemed dead, especially because he was usually so cheery. It was extremely depressing.
Knots twisted in Frank’s stomach whenever Gerard slumped by, and Frank would always hide from him out of guilt. Of course he should have helped. He should have stopped Ray and Bob when they were beating up Mikey. The principal would surely understand why Frank would defend an 8th grader who was being assaulted by a sophomore and a senior.
Bob and Ray showed up four days after the fight. They must’ve gotten suspended. Frank wouldn’t really know, he didn’t talk to them anymore. He didn’t talk to anybody. He dragged his feet around by himself.
One day, probably around a week later, Frank wasn’t watching where he was going and ran smack into Gerard. He was instantly reminded of the first time they met. Except this time, when Frank’s binder fell to the floor and scattered its contents everywhere, Gerard merely gave Frank a wary look before continuing on his own way, carefully stepping over one of Frank’s books on his way out.
The very next day, when Frank saw Gerard, he tightly gripped the collar to his blazer and dragged him outside. A couple of groups of kids on their way to the Arts building stared, confused as to why a midget and Ronald McDonald were apparently having a fight.
“Look, I know I should’ve defended you and Mikey,” Frank began.
Gerard squirmed, and Frank placed another hand on his shoulder to get him to stop.
“I’m sorry,” Frank apologized. He took a deep breath, for the hard part was coming up. “I used to be bullied, and Ray was the first actual friend I’d had in-”
Gerard turned as red as his hair. Frank looked down, to see that someone (Bob) had pulled Gerard’s slacks down to his ankles. Gerard stood there, in his Wolverine boxers, frozen with embarrassment. He looked at Frank helplessly.
“Superhero undies, cool!” Bob jeered. With that, he shoved Gerard into Frank, sending the two to the ground, Gerard on top of Frank only in his skivvies.
Frank could feel mini Gerard through the thin cloth of Gerard’s underwear, and he too, turned beat red when he realized that it seemed, at least to him, the slightest bit hard.
Gerard stood and bent over, grabbing his slacks and wiggling them up to his hips. He tossed his hair before running to a nearby restroom.
“Gerard, wait!” Frank called. He sighed as he got up and, after brushing himself off, pushed past Bob and followed Gerard into the bathroom.
It was too late, Gerard was already locked in a stall. Frank banged on the door with his knuckles.
“Gerard, you can come out,” Frank assured. The warning bell rang. Fuck, no way was Frank going to make it to his class. He sighed, although a large part of him didn’t care. A large part of him was far more worried about if Gerard was okay.
Quiet sobbing filled the bathroom. Frank’s heart broke into bloody little pieces as he heard Gerard cry. This horrible, broken, tired, and most of all, hurt, sound.
Frank was almost prepared to crawl under the door, when a better idea struck him.
“I like Wolverine, too!” Frank yelled.
The weeping stopped after a few moments. Some sniffling then occurred, followed up by a shaky, “R-really?”
“Yeah! I mean- I like Batman better, but Wolverine has got to be a close second!” Frank answered honestly.
“H-have you r-read issue number 38?” Gerard asked.
Frank scoffed. “Please! I have issue number 38! But I must say, 24 is much better.”
The door swung open hard, banging against the next stall loudly.
Gerard stood there, eyeliner smeared down his face in long streaks, nose red, and eyes puffy. “I think so too.”
He smiled at Frank, and all hope in their relationship was restored for Frank. And as for Gerard, well, he’d never let go of it.
Gerard’s mouth fell open a little before twisting into a frown. “Goddammit we’re missing class.”
“Sounds good,” Frank replied sultrily. He pranced out of the bathroom, making sure to swing his hips as he walked to attract Gerard’s eyes to his ass.
Frank shrugged. “Wanna skip? We could go to my house. My parents won’t be home till 6:00 or so…”
Gerard’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “Skip? Are you serious?”
Frank cocked his head. He didn’t take Gerard as the goody two shoes type, although now it seemed to fit perfectly with his personality.
“You dyed your hair scarlet but you’re afraid to skip?” Frank asked skeptically.
Gerard blushed. “W-well… my mom said it was okay I dye my hair!”
Frank smirked.
“She did!” Gerard insisted, his voice hitting an extremely high pitch.
“I’m sure she did,” Frank giggled. He grabbed Gerard’s arm and pulled him out of the restroom.
Gerard was amazed as Frank left the school. He waltzed right on out, like it was no big deal. Gerard couldn’t ever picture himself doing that. But he was ditching, right now. Even though he was tip toeing across the pavement and constantly shooting Frank nervous looks, he was still ditching.
They walked up to a small, Victorian styled house. Their shoes clapped loudly against the cobblestone. Frank lifted the welcome mat on the wooden porch, pulling out a key from underneath.
“We have to change or hiding place, cause this is fucking pathetic,” Frank murmured, gesturing towards the mat.
He twisted the lock and swung the door open, stepping inside and kicking his shoes across the room.
Gerard stood there, taking it all in. It was a small living room, but comfortable, with welcoming furniture and a bright paint job. A picture of a smiling young boy with ebony locks and doe eyes hung on the wall farthest from the door. Gerard’s stomach did happy little flips when he realized that the boy had to be Frank as a child. Gosh, he was a beautiful child.
“So…” Frank began.
Gerard pulls himself from his thoughts, realizing that Frank had been watching him stare and smile at his childhood photo like some fucking pedophile. Gerard can’t help but blush, he knows he does it because his cheeks get super hot out of nowhere.
“Do you want to see my room?” Frank offered.
“Yeah!” Gerard replied a tad too eagerly. He followed Frank up the steps, wanting to kick himself the whole way.
The walls to Frank’s room were almost completely covered in posters. Bands, movies, superheroes, they all concealed the color of the paint beneath them. His bed was tucked away in one corner, unmade with dirty clothes on top. A wrinkled black shirt, some plaid lounge pants and… was that underwear?
Frank’s eyes followed Gerard’s and when Frank saw his black boxer briefs laying out on his bed in the open for anyone to see, he blushed and scurried over, trying, but failing, to casually sit on them and hide them.
“Don’t worry about it,” Gerard laughed. He pinched Frank’s nose between his thumb and index finger. “You’re so shy!” Gerard, without even asking, gathers Frank’s shirt, his pants, and even plucks the underwear out from underneath of him and balls them up, tossing them into the hamper.
Gerard shakes his head and is about to go inspect some of Frankie’s posters when he sees it. A white Gibson stood proudly in one corner of the room on its single stand. Other than a measly dresser and desk, it was really the only thing even close to furniture in the room. Gerard’s room was totally different, packed with dressers, trunks, nightstands, racks, crates, and a million shelves filled with shit. But then again, Gerard was an artist, so maybe he really needed that much more storage than his friend.
“You play guitar?” Gerard asked. He lightly traced the body of the instrument with his fingertips.
Frank nodded and rose. He grinned widely and told, “That is Pansy.”
Gerard pretended he understood and nodded. He didn’t know anything about guitars; he barely played himself, so he didn’t know if naming them was weird. He suspected Frank was strange the moment he’d met him; that’s why he liked Frank so much. Frank was different. Frank was interesting.
Gerard considered telling Frank he sang; he’d been in bands before and had recently been kicked out of one. But now wasn’t the time. He’d have to tell him later, but today wasn’t about being in a band. Today was about being with Frank.
“Do you want to go downstairs and watch a movie?” Frank suggested.
“Sure! Can I pick?” Gerard asked as he follows Frank down the steps.
Frank crouches in front of the TV stand, pulling out a red crate and setting it at Gerard’s feet. “Your pick.”
The crate is cram packed with DVDs. Gerard lays down on his stomach to examine the titles, finally pulling out Dawn of the Dead.
Frank pops it in and the two sit on the couch. Gerard doesn’t know how, but by the end of the movie Frank is asleep, cradled in Gerard’s arms. Gerard looks down at his sleeping figure, observes how peaceful he looks. He brushes a tangle of raven locks out of Frank’s face to get a better look.
Frank moans lightly and shifts in his sleep so he’s facing Gerard, and the shorter boy burries his face into Gerard’s chest.
Gerard places a hand on the small of Frank’s back, carefully pushing him closer into himself. He burries his own face into Frank’s shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo deeply. That’s when he realizes it. That’s when he finds out he loves Frank.
NEXT CHAPTER