I'm not Okay

It’s really beginning to weird me out how I never find frank anywhere. The only place I ever spot him is around my locker. Maybe I imagined him, god knows I’m fucked up enough.
I spend lunch with him again today. We were just talking about how we both hate math and somehow the conversation turned to the shitheads who beat the shit out of me regularly. “It’s not that bad,” I lie. “they barely make a scratch anymore.”
Frank rolls his eyes in a concerned way. I never thought one could roll their eyes concernedly but then I guess Frank isn’t really a lover of convention. “Gee,” he sighs. I wave it off but he continues, “I saw that guy attack you in the car park last week.”
I redden. “I’m sorry I didn’t come and help…”
“It’s fine,” I say stiffly.
“No it isn’t,” he says shakily, “no it fucking isn’t. I’m so sorry. You need to get them to stop. This can’t be good for you.”
“Of course it’s not good for me!” I blurt. “I’m covered in bruises and last week I broke a rib. It costs a lot to get that fucking seen to.”
“I’m not talking about physically. Or financially. You know what I mean.”
Mentally. “I’m okay. I promise.”
The bell rings and I stand up abruptly, “I’m going to be late for class.”
I run out the door to the sound of Frank calling after me. I know he just wants to help but maybe I don’t want to be helped. Definitely not by someone that for all I know isn’t real.
I take out my sketch book when I get home. I have homework enough to sink a ship but I don’t care anymore. September isn’t even over yet and I already don’t give a fuck about school anymore. You’re the best student in the school, Gerard. Thank god you have a brother like Mikey who has some friends and gets some good grades to make sure everyone can see how much you suck.
I start sketching a half skeleton half normal person. But they’re not like a corpse. They’re a musician. A guitarist maybe, who plays shoes and skateboards, because that shit’s cool. He definitely isn’t hated by everyone in his school and he definitely doesn’t have a crush on someone that might not even exist, because that shit’s not cool.

I decide to skip Math to hang out with Frank in the empty physics room. We had a test and I think I’m better off not taking it and getting in trouble for skipping class rather than for failing another test. Frank and I welcome October by smoking in a class room while reflecting on our most embarrassing experiences.
“For me it has to be when I tried to ask a guy out,” I laugh. “It backfired so badly. Literally, I asked one guy out and suddenly I’m the only gay guy to ever walk the earth.
“Maybe not to walk the earth, just the halls of a seriously catholic school,” Frank laughs. “Even then you couldn’t be the only one.”
“Yea, I’m not. I’m just the only bi student worth beating the shit out of.”
Frank purses his lips and nodded. “I was beat up for not being the straightest needle in the sewing box. I really could pick them, I had a stupid crush on the leader of the guys who throw me around. It’s not my fucking fault, I can’t help who I like.”
My heartbeat speeds up at the thought of Frank “not being the straightest needle”
I shift my seating and put out my cigarette. I wonder if I’ll get caught for this.
“My most embarrassing memory… Probably trying out for the school choir,” he takes a last drag before putting his out.
“Did you not get in?” I ask. For some reason I always thought Frank would be a good singer. Maybe I didn’t imagine him if all his characteristics aren’t as I would have made him.
“No I did,” oh “I was the only junior, first of all. Secondly, I was the only boy.” I laugh at this, “It’s true. And to top it off I got a solo singing in Latin about Jesus while I had this scorpion tattoo.” I watch him run his fingers over the tattoo on his neck and cross my legs.
“Afterwards I got beat up by these lads and the cut the words “choir fag” into my arm… that was much less embarrassing and much more horrible.”
I gasp. I was pretty sure Frank was bullied but that’s fucking far. I tell him as much.
“Yea. They always just keep getting worse and worse. That’s the thing about life, everything gets worse and then worse and worse. Even if you don’t think it could. It does.” I stare at him wide eyed. “Don’t worry I’m not going to kill myself again.”
Before I can even ask him what it means he’s changed the subject by asking for another cigarette.

I get my lunch and walk into the corridor, determined to get to the physics rooms before someone spills my stew on me.
Turning the corner I almost wish they did. Instead I charge straight into Miranda, spilling my stew right down her designer white blouse. Her gasp turns into a scream as she slaps me across the face. “Watch out you asshole!”
Logan who was holding her hand dropped it and formed a fist instead. He uses his other hand to shove me full force into the lockers. My try clatters somewhere on the ground. My vision blurs completely and I am in a state of total confusion as I rise from the floor again. My vision always seems to return right in time to see the next blow but not in time to do anything about it. I watch as Logan’s hand that isn’t holding me above the ground swings in and punches me in the stomach.
“Enough!” a voice demands and I’m dropped to the floor again. “Get the principal’s office right this second.” I don’t recognise the voice but I see Logan gulp before my vision blurs out again.
“Fuck, Gerard?” A familiar voice says from somewhere behind me. I realise if I open my eyes I could probably see those that are speaking but honestly, climbing Everest seems easier right now.
“Do you know this boy?” the strange voice says. Silence. “Do you think you can carry him?” Silence.
My curiosity is eased when I’m lifted bridal style from the floor. “Take him to the nurse’s. I’ll be there as soon as I deal with the other boy,” we begin to mover. “You there,” he says behind me, “nevermind your shirt. Clean up this mess now.”
I think I pass out or something on the journey because it doesn’t feel like long until my eyes open in the nurse’s office and I’ve traded muscular arms to padded linoleum. Sitting by the door is Mikey’s friend Zack, who probably brought me here. Beside him is the school guidance councillor, probably owner of the voice.
The nurse enters my square of vision and begins asking me a series of degrading questions such as, “is it sore where he punched you”. I’m pretty fucking sure that’s exactly where it should be sore.
After a while the nurse gives me some pain killers and says I should wait in her office till my mom comes but not fall asleep because I may have a mild concussion.
Whatever a concussion is supposed to feel like this is not mild. I don’t even realise that lunch ended half an hour ago and at some point Zack left.
The guidance councillor walks over and extends his hand to me. I stare at it for some time before actually thinking straight and shake it. “May I sit?” he gestures to the chair by the bed.
“Sure?” I say sitting up straight. I didn’t notice slipping down to horizontal.
“This isn’t the first time this has happened is it?” he asks.
“Nope. It’s okay.”
“No it’s not,” he says, kinda shocked, “Let me introduce myself. My name is Mr. Corgan, you can call my Billy if you wish. I’m the school councillor and I think you should start seeing me Gerard. I’m very worried about you.”
“I don’t know who you are. If you want it to be better stop the schools homophobic outlook on life,” I growl. Mr Corgan sits upright.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“These boys they’re bullies aren’t they,” he says.
“Well, yea.”
“And they make you angry, not sad?”
“Both kinda.”
“Kinda?”
“Like it angers me that they’re assholes. It’s sad that everyone supports them.”
“Not everyone.”
“Well obviously but I can generalise can’t I? I am American.”
He purses his lips at me and I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“Interesting thing to say is all.”
“I guess?” What the fuck is that supposed to mean…
“And how does it make you feel. Do you think they’re attacking you based on your sexuality or on your personality?”
“Both.”
“And does it make you want to change it?”
“No. It makes me want it to be more extreme to get back at them,” this was obviously not the reply he had anticipated.
“Oh,” he manages to say.
The door opens and my mom rushes in with the nurse relaying instructions. She rushes over and hugs me, an act which inflicts a shit ton of pain. I make a noise and she immediately lets go. “Mrs Way, I think it would be best your son sees me twice a week now, with your permission. I’m the school’s guidance councillor.”
My mom looks shocked at the thought that I may need help. “Oh… Yes, yes okay.”
And with that we walk slowly down to the car. I see Frank staring out the window of the west wing as we drive away. Even from this distance he looks quite heartbroken.

Notes

Hey guys sorry this took so long. I was late home the last few days and i then had this really long maths project to do i forgot was due today, including a shit ton of hand drawn venn diagrams :L
If you didn't know, Billy Corgan is lead singer of the Smashing Pumpkins. I always thought music to be my therapy so i've given the same outlook for Gee in a lame af literal way... Thanks for reading!