Once we’re in the school, I immediatley feel like I’m a long way from home. The girls are wearing these skin tight black pants, and the boys black socks with sandals. I see a boy with his pants pulled halfway down his butt.
I loosen my belt, asking Gerard, “Should my pants sag like that too?”
Gerard tightens my belt, telling, “No honey, he’s a hoodrat. You don’t want to look like him.”
“Oh,” I reply, even though that doesn’t make any sense to me.
We go up to the third floor, which is a Hell of a climb for my little legs.
Gerard leaves me in the hall, explaining, “I have to go to the bathroom, sweetie. Stay here, and I’ll be back in a second.”
“Can I come with you?” I beg.
“Sorry, I get stage fright,” Gerard informs. “But I’ll be right back, okay?”
He leaves, and not a second after the kids from the bus stop are conrnering ome. One of them shoves my stomach against the wall, grabbing a fistfuol of my hair to keep me in place.
He rewaches his hand down the back of my pants, tightening his grip around a hunk of my striped boxer briefs. He yanks them upwards, and I squeal out with discomfort.
Jesus Christ, I understand why Gerard was begging for them to stop last time. My ass burns, and my balls cower into my stomach as my waistband is pulled up to my shoulderblades.
“Hey, leave him alone! Let him go!” Gerard shouts. Both my hair and underwear are released, and the boys depart, one of them thumping Gerard on the chest.
“Frankie, are you okay?” Gerard asks.
I’m so embarrased that I feel like I might cry. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Gerard grins and pats me on the back, guiding me to our first class, which we are lucky to have together, seeing as P.E. is kind of Hell for nonathletic, smaller kids like us.
“So how was your first wedgie?” he questions.
I cringe, and Gerard laughs. “Those kids must really be into peoples’ butts,” I mutter.
Gerard chuckles and nods, agreeing, “I suppose it could be interpreted in that way.”
We’re unfortunate to have those kids from the bustop with us in P.E. Gerard told me that the leader’s name is Tyson. Anyways, Tyson was nice enough to pull my shorts down in front of some girls, who all giggled and began to whipser, surely about me, as I struggled to get my shorts back up.
When Gerard and I are in the lockeroom, and he exits from the shower, looking goregous with a towel around his tiny hips and his hair dripping.
“Who took my clothes?” he demands.
Tyson shrugs, and all of his friends laugh. It’s pretty damn obvious that they did.
Gerard steps towards Tyson, snarling, ‘Give me them.”
“Back off, fag,” Tyson scoffs, placing his hand in between Gerard’s pecs and pushing him back.
Gerard flips him off and begins to storm away. Tyson catches Gerard by the twoel, yanking it off and whipping Gerard on the upper thigh with it.
Gerard squeaks, turning around and cupping his dick in his hands to cover himself. He’s snapped in the stomach, and then the chest.
“Leave him alone!” I shout, jumping in between the two. “Tyson, stop fucking around. Where are his clothes?”
Tyson throws Gerard’s towel in my face, which I hand to my boyfriend. “None of your business, midget.”
“Actually, it’s Frank,” I growl.
“I’ll call you whatever I want, queer,” Tyson retorts. “By the way, nice outfit. You look like a hipster fag.”
I don’t know what a hipster is, but by the snickering of the other boys, I’m guessing it’s not a good thing. “Sh-shut up! Just tell him where his clothes are; he’ll be late!”
Gerard grabs my arm, insisting, “Frankie, it’s okay, I can just wear my P.E. clothes.”
“Yeah, ‘Frankie’, listen to your boyfriend,” Tyson sneers.
“No! It’s not okay; you’re a huge asshole!” I yell.
“I did major in being a douche in college,” Tyson responds. “Why don’t you two little faggots go finger bang each other in the corner.”
“Fuck you, Tyson,” I snarl.
Tyson chuckles and then takes a swing at me. I manage to dodge it, but he tackles me, throwing me onto my back harshly. He grips my collar and lifts my face, each punch he delivers slamming my head back onto the floor.
I knee him in the crotch, and he falls off, clutching his cock. I stand, kicking him in the ribs. I then kneel next to him, punching him in the stomach and jaw. I pull him into a headlock, demanding, “Where’s his clothes?”
“In…. in locker 283, it’s unlocked!” Tyson cries. He’s bawling, tears rushing down his face. I don’t care though, I’m still fuming. I kick him once more before going to the locker, taking out Gerard’s boxers, shirt, jeans and Vans. I hand them to him, instructing,
“Get dressed.”
Gerard does so quickly, and we leave, him at my heel.
“Frank… that was…. Amazing! Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Gerard gushes.
“It was nothing,” I respond sheepishly. “My parents were super paranoid, taught me self defense and all in case I ever got in a tight situation.”
“I don’t think those kids will be messing with us anymore,” Gerard tells.
Someone knocks my books down, jeering,
“Nice outfit! Justin Bieber wants it back!”
“I should’ve warned you about wearing that,” Gerard sighs, bending down and scooping up my books. He hands them back to me, and I mumble a thanks.
“So,” Gerard grins at me. “I guess this is where we go our separate ways.”
“Til study hall,” I agree.
Gerard hugs me tightly, not caring about all of the other kids in the hall staring at us like something’s wrong. “Take care of yourself, Frankie. Promise.”
“I promise,” I swear. I smile at Gerard, who pats my shoulder before heading off in the opposite direction.

Notes

Thank you so much for reading! Please comment, and check out my other fics! New chapter should be up soon, but I'm writing like four right now, so please be patient!

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