Wanna Be Somebodies

GERARD’S P.O.V.
I can’t help but feel terrible over the whole thing with Frank all night. The more time that passes, the more it comes to mind, and the worse I feel. I don’t want to be this irritable, hostile person, but that’s what I’m turning into. After all that went down with Matt, I’m losing sight of who I used to be, and nothing is scarier than watching all you know leave you behind to the wolves.
He doesn’t come back over to my dorm that night, and I don’t blame him. My goodnight text to him goes unanswered as well, which is also understandable. I can’t blame him for being mad, but I still wish he’d show me he still cares all the same.
But no, that’s not Frank. When he’s mad, boy is he mad. He might have my back whether I know it or not, but he won’t show it openly, and he certainly wouldn’t say so. I’m in no way surprised when he ignores my texts, but I’m more hurt than anything. Being ignored was something that worked to my advantage at times in my past school, but when it came to Frank, I didn’t want that. Being the center of his world wasn’t necessarily my goal either; no, it was just to know that I was wanted and I belonged. Without that validation, I began to question all sorts of things.
I fall asleep eventually, crashing totally once I finally manage to do so. Waking up somewhat later than usual, I rush through my morning routine (clothes, teeth, backpack) and rush to the cafeteria, desperate to see Frank. I knew that if I left him alone for much longer, his anger would only get worse. There’s a narrow window of time where it’s best to talk to him, after he’s had time to cool down, and before he’s had time to think about it a ton. This time usually happens overnight, and now is my chance to try and fix this entire predicament.
All but sprinting to our usual breakfast table, I am beyond relieved to see Frank sitting there. He’s very invested on whatever it is he’s eating, probably something of the vegan variety. This school has a lot more options than our previous one when it comes to Frank’s diet; he no longer has to live off the salad bar’s lettuce and occasional crackers.
I stand behind him, purposefully blocking any exit he may try. Although he’s small, Frank is a cunning little bastard; he’s a Slytherin for obvious reasons. I put a hand on his shoulder, almost trying to pin him to his seat. “Frank, can I talk to you?”
“I don’t know, can you?” Frank grumbles.
Rolling my eyes, I urge, “C’mon Frankie; it’s important.”
Hearing him mumble something probably not nice under his breath, he stands up nonetheless, allowing me to lead him by the shoulder off to the side of the room. “Frank, I wanted to apologize.”
“What, for going Streetfighter on me the other night?” Frank snaps.
God, even when he’s pissed off he’s funny. “Frankie, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t annoyed with you, just pissed off about everything. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
Frank won’t look at me, so I lace my fingers with his, promising, “It won’t happen again.” I bend slightly to plant a kiss on his cheek, and he finally smiles a bit. We have a moment of comfortable silence, which is interrupted by Frank mentioning, “I’m quitting wrestling today.”
“I’ll be praying for you,” I tell.
“Yeah, Matt will probably kill me, along with the coach,” Frank sighs. Clenching his hands around the straps of his bag, he informs, “I even wore underwear that won’t hurt as bad if Matt tries anything.”
Giggling, I tease, “Lemme see them!” I reach around for Frank’s waistband, which makes him shove me, laughing, “Fuck off!”
We arrive back at our table to see that hardly any of our friends are there. Coulter is gone, which isn’t all that unusual. He’s nearly late about twice a week, meaning that an almost periodical absence from our morning table is more of a guarantee than a regularity. August isn’t there either, which is odd, and what’s even stranger is that Luke is sitting in his spot. And boy, does he have something to say when Frank sits down.
“Iero, if you quit, it’ll be bad,” Luke warns. “Matt will kick your ass.”
Frank shrugs, popping a grape into his mouth. “He’s probably going to kick my ass either way. I might as well get it over with.”
Luke glares at him, and his black eye almost seems to radiate the same hostility as he hisses, “It wasn’t fucking fun, alright?”
Frank, guilty, murmurs, “I’m sorry you got hurt, Luke.”
Luke sighs, admitting, “It’s not your fault.” He picks at his fingernails, telling exasperatedly, “What I’m trying to say is that you should be careful, Frank. I don’t want anything bad to happen.”
“The worst has happened, what else could go wrong?” Frank challenges.
Luke looks at me, trying to reason, “Gerard, aren’t you worried for him?”
“Of course I am,” I confess. “But quitting is his choice and I’m going to support him, no matter what the consequences are.”
Luke shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” He stands, brushing the crumbs from his lap as he dismisses, “It’s your ass, Iero. If you want it torn to pieces, that’s on you. Do me a favor and cover your skull when he tries to bash it in.”
Frank groans once he leaves, complaining, “God, that guy used to be such a blast. Throw this in the mix and he’s quite the downer.”
“He has a point, you know,” I say. “You know that getting a little roughed up is the best case scenario.”
Frank shrugs, telling, “I’ve been beat to shit before, Gerard. I’m not scared.”
“And that’s not right,” I argue. “You shouldn’t be used to being kicked around and treated like shit.”
“It’s whatever,” Frank mumbles. “I am what I am, Gerard. I can’t change that.”
I reach for his hand under the table, grasping it gently. It’s not about what I want for him, but it’s what he knows he can take. I don’t like it, but I’m just going to have to take a leap of faith and trust Frank on this one.

Notes

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