Forget About The Dirty Looks.

Gerard's POV
When we get to school, Mikey and Ray are waiting at the gates for us. They acknowledge our joined hands, and smile.
"Hey, you two! Have a good night, eh?" Mikey winks at us, and I feel myself blush. I glance at Frankie, who is smiling slightly at the floor and blushing. Mikey looks at both of us, smirking. When we make no effort to answer him, he takes our silence as a confirmation.
"You did, didn't you? Oh, dear..." He acts disgusted, but I can tell he's laughing internally. Brotherly instincts, you see..
He finally lets out a laugh, Ray's been laughing at us since the blush formed on my cheeks. I grab Mikey into a headlock, and tousle his hair, knowing he spent at least half an hour on it this morning. He groans and tries to wriggle out of it, I'm the one who's laughing now. Me, Frankie and Ray are laughing at Mikey's discomfort, and Mikey finally manages to slip his head out. He punches me on the arm, playfully. He pouts at us but eventually laughs too. The smile gets wiped off his face pretty quick, but I can't see why. He's looking at something, and scowling, and his cheeks are flushing with... Anger? I spin round and see why he's scowling. Craig is here, and he's walking over to us, followed by his idiotic friends.
"Well, what have we got here then? There's at least two faggots... maybe more. What do you think, Johnny?" All 'Johnny' can do is laugh and mumble an incoherent sentence, probably an insult.
"What do you want, Craig? I owe you nothing, not anymore." My voice comes out a lot softer than I wanted it to, and I mentally curse myself.
"Calm your tits, Gerard Gay. We only wanted a little chat, that's all..." Craig tries to act innocent, but fails because you can clearly see the malicious glint in his eyes. Frank releases a little chuckle in disbelief.
"Yeah, okay, Craig. You wanting a 'Little chat' with us? The 'faggots'? Why don't you do us all a favor and go away. Go home, go practice some soccer or whatever, I don't care, just leave us alone!" Frankie's voice is unusually viscous, and Craig looks taken back from it. The looks of surprise soon leaves his face, and is replaced with an evil smirk.
"Hey, Frank? Do you know anybody called Frank Iero.. He was asking about you the other day, when he came and bought drugs and alcohol of my friends." Frank's face drains of color, and I wonder why. Frank Iero... That's Frankie's name, Frank Iero?
Oh, shit! His dad! It could be him, Frankie's never told me his dad's name. He's been asking about My Frankie? If Craig told him anything, I will personally see to it that he is brutally murdered...
"What? What the hell, Craig? How do you know about him?" Frankie is firing questions at Craig, beside himself. I sling an arm around him, and find a strip of skin under his t-shirt. I rub circles on it, and Frank leans into my touch. Craig grins, happy to get a reaction out of him.
"Oh, you know... He asked where you lived and stuff like that.." Frank starts trembling then, and I start to really want to murder Craig.
"Di-did you... Did you, uh, tell him? Please tell me you didn't.. Oh, god.." He trails off, talking to himself. He is shaking real hard now, terrified. His voice is small; weak.
"Answer me this; Did your house get broken into the other day? If yes, then you have the answer to your question. Anyway, have a nice day, guys. Thanks for the nice chat, we should do it again, maybe." He waves, and saunters off, his friends following him, laughing.
Frankie then practically collapses on me, and I have to grab his waist to stop him from falling. He starts to cry into his shoulder, his quiet cries turning into noisy, dejected sobs. He stutters out delirious words, only one sentences clear to my ears.
"Gee, why can't he just leave us alone?" His voice is so heart-breakingly desolate, that I can't answer his question; instead I just mutter a few non-understandable words of comfort. He continues to cry, and Ray and Mikey are staring wide eyed at us. I've forgotten that they don't know about his dad, and they've never seen Frankie this sad. I hear the bell, and try to start calming Frankie down.
"Frankie, it's going to be okay... I know it's hard, I know. Just think, he will leave you alone, might not be today, tomorrow or the next day, but he will leave you alone. Anyway, if he ever hurts you, I will personally murder him.." He quiets down a little, and I decide that my forte in life isn't comforting people, unless they have just woken up, or they are high. I sigh, and give him a proper hug, seeing as his legs are able to support him now. I rest my cheek on the top of his head, and rock us. He sighs, and leans into my embrace, clinging onto the fabric of my shirt. I kiss the top of his head, and draw back enough so that I can look him in the eyes. I stare at him, trying to convey my emotions and thoughts into my eyes and facial expression. After five minutes; or an hour of standing there, arms wrapped around each other, looking in to each others eyes, I notice that his tears have stopped and the only evidence of them even being there in the first place are puffy, red eyes and tear tracks going down his cheeks.
"Frankie, you okay now? We can bunk off school, if you want. I don't care, as long as your happy.." He cracks a smile at that, and blushes.
"No, Gee, we can't skip again. I've been to a weeks worth of lessons so far, and I think school will be a good distraction.." His eyes are still dull, but his smile is sort of genuine, so I nod my head, albeit wearily. He smiles and grabs my hand, rushing inside.
I don't see him much for the rest of the day, and at lunch I only get to see him for half of it. Craig pulled me away from them. When I say 'pulled' I actually mean forcefully grabbed from behind, gripped tightly on my wrist, and dragged away from them. Frankie protests, but I shake my head, telling him silently to stay there. They drag me to the same room they beat us up in yesterday, and lock the door.
"What the hell do you want, Craig?"
"This time, I do only want to talk. Nothing else, I can't be bothered to give your ass a kicking today.." He smirks, and his friends chuckle to themselves. I sigh, having had enough with everything.
"What do you want to talk about, Craig? I have no interest in talking to somebody when their I.Q is below the average of a ten year.." His smirk disappears, and he clenches his fist, but then un-clenches it.
"I was going to tell you what stuff the guys have been saying about you, but if you're going to be rude, I won't bother.." He turns, as if to leave, and my curiosity has been piqued.
"Wait.. What have they been saying about me?" The curiosity I'm feeling shines through in my voice, and Craig stops walking, and stand with his back turned for about thirty seconds. When he spins back around, he has a smirk on his face.
"I'm only telling you this because we used to be friends, okay? And you can't tell anybody, not even your little Frankie." He looks sincere, but I know Craig. I know he is very good at lying, and I'm starting to reconsider my idea to stay here. It's silent for a minute, and I ponder over whether or not I should just leave.
"Okay, I won't tell anybody..." I say it hesitantly, and Craig still has a stupid smirk on his face.
"Okay, well... Connor told me that somebody had called you a whore, and that you'd done something to almost all the guys we used to hand around with... Like you'd given them blowjobs, handjobs, had sex with them.." My breath hitches, and memories are brought up. Memories like me stumbling around in a dark house, high and my innocence lost. Me and different guys, being forced into doing things with them, being forced drugs so they could get me high enough to do it... I feel my lip tremble, and bite it before Craig can see.
"I personally don't believe it, but y'know, people talk shit, and there's nothing you can do about it..." There is a certain edge to his voice, and I can't make out why. It sounds like he is putting too much effort into his tone of voice; like he's lying or something.
"And.. Johnny has been saying that when you took drugs one time, you got so high that you told him all kinds of shit, he didn't say anything that you'd said, but apparently you sounded pathetic and weak. Ronnie has been saying that you and your little Frankie are made for each other, because you're both as feeble and pitiful as each other.." He looks at me, and seems to try to gauge my reaction. I stare at him, my face hopefully unreadable.
"They've also been saying stuff like you have a million STD's from all the boys you've fucked, and that they never liked you, and they charged you extra for the drugs. They also said that you owed them less money, more like $250, not $3000 or whatever it was. You could have easily paid it off, y'know. You went through all that trouble for nothing, Gerard. What a shame, eh?" My blood is boiling, and I can't believe it. Did I seriously go through all of that for nothing? Every single bit of childish innocence got ripped from me, stolen. I got death threats, not just about me, but about everyone I love, and I got people beat up because of me, and I might not have even owed them all of the money I paid? What the actual fuck? I stare at Craig, my mouth set in a thin line, my fists clenched at my sides, shaking from anger. We all stare at each other, all of them poised in case I try to swing at anybody. Instead I walk out. I push past Craig, anybody that's wondering the halls and run out of school. The only thought running through my head is that I need to drown my sorrow and anger in a good, strong bottle of alcohol.

An hour later, and I've done just that. I sit in the park, oblivious to everything. I have an empty bottle of vodka smashed on the floor beside me, several empty cans of beer, and two half and fully full bottles of whiskey in my lap. I can't form a coherent thought, but still I drink more. Fifteen minutes go by and one of the bottles of whiskey is empty. I start to open the other one, when I hear a familiar ring-tone cutting through the mess that is called my Brain. I fumble in my pockets, my hands shaking, and get the phone out a second too late.
I have five missed calls from Frankie, there might be more but my sight is slightly blurred. I press what I hope is the call button, and put the phone into my ear. He picks up on the third ring.
"Gerard?" His voice is worried, but sounds relieved.
"Uh, Yeah.. I.. I think I'm Ge-Gerard.." I giggle, and hiccup a few times in the sentence. I hear Frankie sigh.
"Gee, are you drunk?" I giggle again, way too past it to even care about anything.
"I might b-be.... I mi-might not be... You may.. you may never know, Frankie.." I'm still fucking giggling, and I know I sound like a girl.
"Gee, where are you? I'm coming to walk you home, you shouldn't-," I hear a muffled bang.
"Hold on, Gee. I'll be back in a second.." I hear him sigh, and hear more bangs. Alarm sirens distantly go off in my head. I hear a distorted yell, and loud footsteps. What's going on? I need to get to Frankie's house, and quickly.
"Fr-Frankie..?" Some more yells, and curses. I faintly hear Frankie yelling for somebody to 'Get out or I'll call the police' and I know I should go get some help. All I can do, though, is sit and listen, hearing a dreadful scene carry out over a phone call.
"Gerard, go get help, please... He's he-." His sentence gets cut off, and I think the phone get thrown onto the bed or something. 'He's here'? Who's 'He'? My drunken self can't piece things together, but I know something very bad is happening.
"Frankie? Frankie, what's going.. What's going o-on? Wh-who's 'He?" The phone call has sobered me up a bit, but I'm still as drunk as fuck. I look at the bottles and cans littered around me and mentally kick myself for being so stupid. Why did I choose today, of all day's, to get so drunk I can't even see straight?
I hear Frankie yelling. I can't make out the words, but he sounds alarmed and really distressed.
"Frankie! Answer me!" I'm shouting now, and I feel something wet drip down my cheek. I hear laughter, horrible malicious laughter, and it's right next to the phone.
"I'm sorry, but Frankie is not able to take your call right now, would you like to leave a message?" A deep, rough voice speaks into the receiver.
"Wh-who is this? Where's Frankie? Leave him... Leave him alone!" I try to sound strong, but I'm a hiccuping, drunken mess, and I sound pathetic, even to my own ears.
"I'm Frank's dad, He's safe with me, don't you worry.. We're going to have lots of fun together, aren't we Frankie? Just like old times..." He breaks off into a laugh, and I drop the phone. It's Frank's dad. The same one that used to... that used to abuse him. The same one that almost killed him. He has Frankie... My Frankie. The laughter is still ringing from the phone. I put it back up to my ear, my hands shaking so much that I can't hold it in the right place.
"Please let him go... Please?"
"I'm afraid that I can't. Soon the bitch that is his mom will be back, and then my family will be complete. I have a lot of... strong emotion that I've bottled up over the years, and Frank and the bitch need to see, or feel, what they've done to me..." I hear Frankie in the background, crying and shouting curses at him.
"Gee! Don't try and find me, you'll get hurt! I lov-" He gets cut off by a sharp slapping sound and he whimpers in pain. The phone get put down, and the sound becomes a lot more muffled.
I can faintly hear Frankie's dad shouting at him, every so often I hear a blow or slap and a weak whimper of pain. I decide I can't listen anymore and put the phone down.
I sit there, in the park, for ages. I just sit there, staring at the phone, frozen. All of a sudden my brain tells me that I should go help him, I should do anything. I stumble to my feet,, and try to walk. I end up tripping, and I just lie there, curled up, imagining all the horrible things that could be happen to Frank, but I can't bring myself to move; to do anything.
My phone rings and I fumble to get it, tears streaming down my face, and look at the caller I.D. It's not Frankie, it's Mikey.
"M-Mikey?" My voice is small, and you can hear that I'm crying.
"Gerard? Where are you? Are you okay; why are you crying?" All I reply is 'The Park' and a chocked sob.
"I'll be there in a second, hold on. It'll be okay, whatever it is that's wrong.." I hang up, thinking but not speaking the words
'Yeah, right, sure it will...'

Notes

There you go! Things are about to get a lot worse, this is just a warm-up chapter....
I hope you like it! Comment and shit...
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