Wanna Be Somebodies

FRANK’S P.O.V.
As soon as August leaves, the nagging question that has been eating me for hours comes to the surface. What happened between Matt and Gerard in that bathroom? That matter is first and foremost in my mind, no doubt. Second to that is the manner in which I'm going to ask him. I've got to be careful, that's for sure. He's been somewhat of a walking time bomb for the past week or so; I can never tell what will set him off. This topic is touchy enough in itself, but pair it with his irritability lately and it's bound to tick him off. Gerard's never been so distressed for so long, but it's always been him against the world; he can't have me fighting him as well.

So I come off as a lover with the concern of an old friend. Starting the conversation is the hardest; we've been laying in the light for some time now, not speaking, just enjoying the presence of one another. “August left.” I'm trying to play it casual; I don't want this to feel like an attack. Gerard limply bobs his head, agreeing, “Yep.”

“I have something to ask you.” I guess I'm taking the direct route.

“Shoot,” Gerard orders. He has somewhat of a warm distance in his eyes. He looks so damn lukewarm that I'm praying for the possibility that I don't get much of a reaction out of him.

“Luke told me he saw you leave a bathroom after Matt the other night,” I begin. “Anything to on in there? Something you might want to talk about?”

Gerard starts to bite on his bottom lip, confessing, “I saw him in there, yeah. Not a whole lot went on.”

“You sure?” I pry. I'm not meaning to; boy do I hate it when people pry. But in this case, I have to; it's for Gerard's interest, not my own inner gossip. “He said you looked pretty upset.”

“Luke didn't even see me; I talked to August,” Gerard insists. “How would he know?”

My brows furrow as I ask, “Wait, you talked to him?”

Gerard nods, sharing, “He wouldn't let me past; I kind of had to.”

“I never even knew you talked to him,” I inform. “I thought he just saw you.”

Gerard shakes his head, and I realize that either August lied to Luke or Luke lied to me, although I'm putting my money on the latter. “What did he say?”

Gerard shrugs, telling, “Nothing, really. Mostly wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” I demand. “It seems like information is being spread all around in our circle, but none of it is reaching me, at least not correctly.”

“I don't know,” Gerard mutters. “It was embarrassing. It was bad enough that August had a clue; I figured I better keep it to myself unless I want it on the school newspaper.”

I hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze as I asked, “What did he even do?”

Gerard won't meet my eye as he mumbles, “He just groped me; it's nothing. No big deal.”

I sigh, hugging him. “The things I would do to that asshole.”

“If he wasn't able to destroy you,” Gerard adds. “Not to mention, he's the kind of asshole who's threats are actually a possibly.” He shudders, whimpering, “It's hard to sleep sometimes knowing he wants to kill me. At least, enough so that he could threaten me with it.”

I kiss him on the cheek, promising, “I wouldn't ever let anything happen to you.”

August returns, and I have half a mind to ask him about all of this bathroom business. If he lied to me, I'll be sure to find out about it, and he will not be happy.

But then I glance over at Gerard and see those tired, smogged eyes of his and I can't bear the thought of it. No, I won't confront anyone. I'll keep it to myself just this one time, for him. It's the least I can do.

“You guys hear from Luke?” August asks.

I shake my head, replying, “I know I didn't.”

“Cmon, it's almost supper,” August prompts, grabbing his meal pass from his desk. He nudged me lightly with the stiff plastic of the card, urging, “Let’s go; we’ll see him there.”

I hear Gerard murmur softly, hardly a sound, “I sure hope so.” Great, I'm not the only one worried for Luke; the whole room is at unease.

Thankfully we do see him at dinner, and his eye looks a little less swelled and angry than it had earlier. He must have iced it, I figure.

Although he may be relatively fine physically, boy does he have a lot to say about practice. “Coach caught on something about those guys being pricks to you, Iero. He made us all run.”

“Sorry,” I apologize. “Why didn't you speak up, say you had nothing to do with it?”

Luke scoffs and shakes his head, muttering, “You don't get it, do you?”

Somewhat offended, I open my mouth to give him my two cents worth, but I'm interrupted by one of the wrestling guys approaching our table. He's a kid I've hardly seen, let alone spoken to, and he glares at me and cusses, “Fuck you, Iero. You're just a pussy; you're nothing.”

He's gone as quickly as he'd came, but his words still prick in my temples and soak in my stomach like a clump of glue.

Gerard looks over at me, assuring, “That guy’s such an asshole; don't pay him any mind.”

I nod, the wad of hurt in my gut rising up my throat. Shit, I'm going to cry.

“Frank, are you okay?” August says.

That's the last thing I hear before I lose it, pushing out of there fast, through crowds of kids gone from laughter to snickering and whispering. Tears start to run as I make my way through them, pushing and striving for an escape. I don’t wait up for Gerard or anyone else; those things are farthest from my mind. No, I run straight to my dorm and lock the door the moment I get inside.

Notes

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