Pinned

The next day, Frank figures that he better make his move on Gerard before the boy gets away.
Frank plans to talk to him in the locker room before P.E., but by the time he opens the door to a room full of underwear clad adolescents, Gerard is pushing past him, heading for the gym. Frank sighs as he heads over to his locker, setting down his bag and undoing his belt and stepping out of his pants. He’s standing in his camouflage boxer briefs and fumbling with his goddamned padlock when Pete strides over, gripping the back of Frank’s neck harshly and pressing his cheek against the cool metal of his locker.
“What the fuck was that yesterday?” Pete snarls.
“What?” Frank asks. Pete slams Frank’s head against the locker, and the room falls silent as they watch the scene, Frank’s yelp echoing.
“The fight! I want a real one!” Pete demands.
“What are you talking about?” Frank questions hoarsely. “That was a real fight.”
Pete shakes his head furiously. “No…no! You ran away, like the little pussy you are!”
“I got dragged away,” Frank growls. He decides to omit the part about Gerard kicking his ass, because he knows Pete would give him Hell for being beaten by a kid like him. Thing is, Gerard changes so much when he’s angry. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, except for anyone who fucks with his brother. Frank hates to defend or condone Gerard’s actions, but… it was actually sort of admirable, him sticking up for his brother like that. Frank wishes that he cared about something or someone that much.
Pete plants his knee into Frank’s ass, and barks, “I want a rematch!”
“I kicked your ass, and that’s the end of it!” Frank retorts.
Frank cries out in humiliation and shock as Pete rams his knee up Frank’s ass. Pete then releases Frank, slamming him against the lockers roughly. “If you’re so sure you kicked my ass, then you could do it again, no problem, right?”
“Fine,” Frank agrees. “Two weeks from now. Not at school though, I was told we almost got caught.”
“Then where?!” Pete snaps.
“Untwist your panties. Why not in that field by the park?” Frank suggests.
“Fine!” Pete sneers, shoving through the crowd of boys and stomping up the steps.
P.E. doesn’t go any better for Gerard than it did last time. Without an official win, Pete still victimizes the older, but smaller and weaker, boy as they play dodge ball. It’s open season on Gerard; Pete must’ve gotten other kids on his team in on it. I’m actually glad to be on Pete’s team, seeing as he wants to win so he wouldn’t hit me, but at the same time, my heart aches for Gerard.
Gerard finally breaks down and starts to cry after a particularly hard blow to the face. Luckily they had a sub that day, because no way would the normal teacher tolerate that. There’s only about five minutes left to the class, so Gerard is allowed to sit out.
Frank tries to catch up with Gerard on the short way to the boys’ locker room, but Gerard is out of there so fast that Frank can’t keep up. Gerard is already halfway stripped when Frank enters the locker room.
Gerard throws a towel around his waist and enters the showers. He emerges, wet hair clinging to his forehead, and Pete decides it’s a lovely time to go over and tease him.
Pete struts over, his walk full of purpose as he beelines over to Gerard. Pete shoves him, knocking him onto his butt. Gerard stands, quickly slipping his blue boxer briefs under his towel because no one wants to be attacked wearing nothing but a towel.
Pete pushes Gerard again, sending Gerard stumbling, but not falling over this time.
“Why were you crying?” Pete smirks.
Gerard doesn’t answer, just burns red as he is shoved back to the floor.
“Aww, are you embarrassed? Are you gonna cry again?” Pete mocks. “Go ahead.” Then he says it. The chattering room goes quiet enough to hear a pin drop as Pete spits at Gerard, “Faggot.” He then actually spits on him, and Gerard fucking lets him.
It’s not that Pete has never called Gerard a faggot before, or that no one was ever called a faggot, but just the mere fact that now the two words Gerard and faggot are being put together by the boys and it’s making all sorts of sense.
Frank feels like he owes himself not to stick up for the boy who kicked his ass, but he can’t stand to see Gerard be treated so badly. He hurries over, barking at Pete,
“You know what? You can’t talk to my friends that way!”
Pete sniggers, “So what you two are friends? Midget and Nosferatu?”
Frank is thinking of a response when he hears a Gerard reply icily,
“Frank’s not my friend.”
Frank stares back at Gerard, who glares back fearlessly.
“Ooh, lovers quarrel?” Pete hisses. “That’s awkward.”
“Shut the fuck up, Peter!” Frank barks.
Pete’s smile drops as he hears his full name. He hasn’t been called Peter since probably kindergarten. He established that his name was to be Pete when little six year old children called him Peter Pan and accused him of being gay because of his name. “Say that again, you little bitch.”
Frank smiles as he adds, “Peter Pan.”
Pete launches himself at Frank, knocking him to the ground. He takes a shot at Frank’s face, hitting him squarely in the jaw. Frank shoves him off, twisting his arm into a tight hold as Pete whimpers loudly.
“If I apply more pressure, it’ll break your arm,” Frank informs.
“L-let me go!” Pete stammers.
Frank releases Pete, smirking. “Whatever the princess wants, the princess gets.”
It’s Pete’s turn to turn scarlet as Frank waltzes over to his locker. “Oh-oh yeah? You’re gonna get yours, Iero!”
Frank flips Pete off over his shoulder as he changes. Not that Pete’s threat wasn’t legitimately scary, it’s just that Frank had gone too far, trash talked too much to back down now.

Notes

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