He's Not Dead He Only Looks That Way

Gerard actually does manage to lay off Frank’s tormentors, and they do the same; keeping a careful distance from Frank whenever they see that Gerard is with him, which is practically fucking all the time.
The duo is pleasantly surprised at lunch to see Pete join them. He strides over like it’s no big deal, tossing his backpack onto the table like he owns the place.
“Hey, guys!”
“Hi Pete,” Frank responds chirpily.
“Hey, nerd,” Gerard tells flatly. He likes to give a lot of people shit, but mostly Pete, and that’s because he takes it so well. “You know your parents don’t love you, right?”
Pete’s face stays stoic as ever, and he nods, replying, “Yeah, I hear that a lot.”
“What are you up to?” Frank asks, taking a bite of his sandwich. He recoils only slightly; the school lunches are getting tastier.
“Um, nothing really,” Pete tells. “I got a um…” He unzips the front pouch of his book bag, pulling out a brown paper sack. His eyes shift side to side, and he leans over the table, dropping his voice to a whisper as he informs merrily, “I have a bag of weed.”
Gerard’s eyes widen, and he questions, “You’ve never smoked pot before?”
Pete shakes his head, stuffing the bag back into the pocket. “I’m really excited. Want to share it?”
Gerard shakes his head, replying, “Man, I quit that stuff in like 8th grade.”
“Well, just who am I supposed to smoke it with?” Pete demands. “Mikey doesn’t smoke, Patrick won’t even look at the weed, Frank’s got shit lungs-”
Frank clears his throat, answering, “I’ll try some.”
Pete furrows his brows, his permanent grin morphing into a frown. “I thought you can’t.”
“Well I can, it’s just…” Frank takes a long sigh. “It probably won’t be the most enjoyable or easy.”
“Then why do it?” Gerard reasons.
Frank shrugs. “Why not? I’ve never smoked anything in my life, and I don’t want to die without knowing what that feels like.”
“You want to know how it feels? Scream for 2 hours. That’s how it feels,” Gerard replies.
Frank rolls his eyes, murmuring, “I can do it if I want.”
“I know, just be careful, okay? Don’t push yourself too far,” Gerard advises. “The first time my friend Bob smoked weed, he tried to count every hair on his body. Lost count at four. Good guy, Bob was.”
Frank giggles, “I’m sure.”
“Are you excited?” Pete asks, nudging Frank.
“For sure!” Frank squeaks. “When are we smoking it?”
“Not tonight; I’ve got a math quiz tomorrow,” Pete explains. “But Thursday night, we’re set to go.”
“In Gerard’s room?” Frank asks.
“I don’t want my room smelling like a middle school locker!” Gerard protests.
“In Gerard’s room,” Pete agrees.
Gerard whips his hair off his head in a mock huff, crossing his arms. “Fine, you fucking stoners.”
Frank pecks Gerard on the cheek, and Pete tells, “Whoa whoa, no one told me you two were dating.”
Frank smiles sheepishly, admitting, “Well, no one really knows. Not even Mikey.”
“Why not?” Pete asks.
“Ummm,” Gerard stalls, looking for an excuse.
“My dad is like, way homophobic,” Frank cuts in. “He’d kill me, y’know.”
Pete nods, and points out, “You can’t hide it forever, though.”
“We know,” Frank responds, despite the fact that the two have never even considered telling anyone.
“Can you not tell Mikey?” Gerard pleads. “I just don’t want the word to get out.”
“Okay,” Pete agrees. “But you have to promise me that you’ll tell Frank’s dad eventually. Homophobic or not, the man deserves to know what’s going on in his son’s life.”
“I guess that’s fair,” Gerard murmurs, although in the back of his mind he’s contemplating if Frank’s dad really has earned his son’s honesty or affection; after all, he won’t even accept him for who he is.
Gerard and Frank are hanging out later that night, and Frank begs,
‘Please don’t make me tell my dad.”
“Let’s be reasonable, what’s the worst that could happen?” Gerard retorts.
Frank opens his mouth to speak, but the words don’t quite make it out, and he sits there, eyes growing wet and his mouth gaping. “I really didn’t want to tell you about this.”
“About what?” Gerard asks.
“When… when I was little,” Frank begins. He laces his own fingers together, twiddling with his thumbs as he continues, “There was a boy I liked. I was six or seven years old, and already I knew that I liked boys.”
“So, already, my dad’s all, ‘Say, Frankie, got your eye on any cute girls?’ And I’m dumb enough to be upfront with him and answer something along the lines of, ‘Actually, there’s a boy named Joey.’
“And we were driving, and my dad pulls the whole car right over. My mom wasn’t there to defend me, so he just fucking went ballistic. He didn’t hit me, not once, but he was wringing my neck and grabbing me by the collar and hollering, and I was crying my eyes out the entire time. Finally, he does take me over his knee and spank me, and he makes me promise not to say anything like that ever again. I’m so hurt and scared that I agree to it automatically, and he holds me to that fucking promise.”
“Every now and then, he’ll just give me this real smug look. His eyebrows will raise slightly, and the corners of his lips will upturn in a small, subtle smile. And I fucking hate him so much, but he doesn’t care, because he knows I’m his.”
“Frank, that’s not true.”
“It is!” Frank insists. “I sear, all I am is fucking property to that guy. He parades me around to make himself look good, and as soon as he doesn’t need me, he goes back to treating me like shit.”
“Frank, I’m really sorry,” Gerard mutters. “I… I don’t know how to help.”
“You can help not telling him,” Frank counters.
Gerard nods, mostly to make Frank feel better. He wraps his boyfriend in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head.

Notes

Thanks so much for reading! Please comment, rate, and subscribe!! I should be updating soon.