Nobodies

When Frank and I arrive at school the next day, each of us can tell that something’s up with the other. Both of our problems are pretty apparent; I’m wearing a long sleeved t shirt when it’s how warm outside and Frank shows up to my locker crying.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I ask.
Frank shrugs, more fat tears rolling down his face.
I shake my head knowingly. “You were getting picked on again, weren’t you?”
Frank nods, and ducks his heads as his tears fall. I take his hands in mine, stroking the inside of his palms with my thumbs.
“What’d they do to you?” I whisper.
“I-it’s not what they d-did, it’s wh-what they said,” Frank sniffles.
“Alright, then, what’d they say?” I tailor.
Frank bites his lip and then sobs, “They, they told me that I was a Hell-bound faggot and that I deserved to kill myself.”
I hug Frank tightly, petting the back of his hair.
“Gee, um, people are looking,” Frank snivels.
I shrug. “So what? I don’t give a fuck.”
“Aww, how cute,” a boy sneers. Gerard snaps his head over to see that it’s one of the most notorious assholes in their school, Shane. He thumps Frank in the chest. “A midget…” he grabs a chunk of my hair, pulling harshly before releasing me. “And a vampire. Those go together, right?”
Shane checks over his shoulder to make sure that somebody’s watching, to see that all of the hallway is. Of course, he wouldn’t bully someone without an audience to talk about how great it was.
Shane smirks at my hair, which is styled into a faux hawk. “Nice haircut. What are you, a gay superhero?”
I feel my ears burn as he and some other kids in the hall laugh.
“Can you fly? Go, jump out of a fourth floor window and find out,” Shane sneers.
“You can’t talk to him like that!” Frank interjects, stepping between me and Shane. I tug on the bottom of his shirt fearfully, but Frank bats my hand away with a quick squeeze.
“Oh, yeah? I bet…” Shane twists off the cap to his water bottle, holding it over Frank’s head. “I bet I can pour this onto your head and you’ll both let me.”
Shane holds his word, tipping the bottle upside down as Frank stands there, growing redder and redder as he gets wetter and wetter as well.
Shane chuckles, tossing the bottle over his shoulder. He punches Frank in the crotch, making him double over. “Later, fags.”
I rush to the aid of my boyfriend, who is coughing as he crumples to his knees. “Frank! Are you okay?”
Frank, clutching his cock, nods, wheezing, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
My hands form fists as I glare at the spot where Shane had stood. “God, that guy’s an ass! We can’t let him treat us like that!”
Frank chuckles hoarsely. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to. He’s about 6’3” and 230. Meanwhile, I’m 5’4” and 112. Gerard, he’s almost a foot taller and over twice as heavy.”
“So? Together…. I’m 5’8”, and 144! Together, we’re… we’re 11 feet tall and 256 pounds!” I chime, trying to get Frank to look on the bright side.
Frank slowly rises, chuckling, “Wow, dream big, Gerard.”
“Frank! You have to think about this logically!” I reason. “Two kids can definitely take one.”
Frank shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure we just proved that we couldn’t if we tried.”
I groan, following Frank down the hallway. I grab him by the arm, quickly pecking him on the cheek. “See you at lunch, babe. Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Frank promises. He eyes my sleeve, almost as if he can see through it and denote all of the cuts. He then looks at me with those huge hazel eyes, and tells, “Later, I get the whole story, kay?”
“Fine,” I mumble.
After school, Frank drives me to his house. We go up to his room, stripping to our underwear and cuddling in his bed. I keep my t shirt on with my pink briefs, afraid to let Frank see how much damage I did last night.
Frank runs a hand up my sleeve, caressing my forearm gently. He grabs the tail of my shirt, and I obediently bow my head and lift my arms so he can pull it off of me. He lets it fall to the floor, and pulls the covers down to our waists, revealing the gauze covered cut. Frank keeps his eyes on mine as he undoes the wrap, leaving the deep red cut on display, barely held together with butterfly bandages.
Frank kisses it, and then looks up at me. “Gerard, this has to stop. I want you to go to therapy.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do that, Frankie. I need it.”
Frank bites his lip, and then sighs, “I really didn’t want to do this Gerard.”
“Do what?” I ask, sitting up as my stomach churns with anxiety.
Frank tears up, and stands, walking around in his blue and grey striped boxer briefs until he locates his skinny jeans, wiggling into them. He pulls on his shirt as well, and steps into his shoes. He lifts me out of bed, setting me on the edge. “Get dressed, babe.”
I’m suspicious of Frank’s motives, but do as I’m told, getting dressed quickly. Frank picks me up again, going down the stairs and into his truck. He sets me in the passenger seat, buckling my seat belt. He starts to cry as he gets into his own seat, slamming the door and starting his truck.
“Where are we going?” I question.
Frank sniffles, “I can’t tell you.”
I peer over at him, to see his eyeliner run down his face in long, black streaks.
I start to recognize the route. I reach for the door handle, but Frank locks the door, apologizing,
“I’m sorry, Gerard. But you have to do this.”
“No! I can’t! I’m not ready!” I cry, jiggling the handle angrily. “Let me out!”

Notes

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