I was shaken awake by Mikey at seven a.m. My head was pounding and my eyes felt like they were about to fall out of my head. So this is what a hangover feels like.

I grabbed a hold onto a couch cushion and used it to pull myself up into a sitting position. I sat forward in my chair, holding my head in my hands. Never again am I going out on a school night, I swore to myself. I used Mikey as a support and eventually stood up. Immediately I regretted it, feeling the bile raise slowly in my throat.

“Bathroom,” I said, met with a confused look from both Mikey and my mom.

“Bathroom,” I repeated, more forceful this time. Their faces remained blank.

Before I could repeat it a third time, I leaned over and threw up, coating all of the furniture and people within five metres of where I was.

“Gerard,” my mom squealed, “first week of school and you have a tummy bug. I hope one of those boys last night didn‘t give you something.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but she didn‘t seem to notice. She fussed around me, wiping my face clean and getting me a glass of water. Mikey had remained silent and hovered stoically until our mom was out of earshot before he told me, “I said that you were playing video games all last night with me and the guys. I knew she’d freak if she thought you were drunk.”

I gave Mikey a sincere smile and leaned back into the chair.

***

I stayed home from school that day, my activities ranging from toilet retching to coffee drinking and back to the toilet again. I decided that I was never, ever going to drink that much on one night again. I got a text from Josh at some point:

That girl u brought home was amazing! Y were u in such a rush 2 leave her. Think u won the contest ;).

I sighed. Obviously I couldn’t tell the guys I was gay; most people don't appreciate having gay friends.

I finally forced myself of the couch I‘d been sitting on all day and stumbled downstairs to my room. I pulled out my paints and began scattering lines onto a canvas.

I used flesh tones, and before I realised it, the lines formed a face. I didn’t know where I’d seen it, maybe in the nightclub. I took out my darker colours and painted in two striking hazel eyes and a messy black fringe. The face looked bare somehow, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Although the face was perfectly formed, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

For a while, I stared into the round, hazel eyes I had just created. It felt like they were staring right into my soul, warming me from the core of my being.

I left my easel and set about reading a comic I hadn’t put away yet. I couldn’t stop glancing over at the painting. As I read about someone getting their lip sliced open with a sword, it came to me. A lip ring. He needed a lip ring. I found the tiny tube of silver paint at the bottom of my paint box and applied a thin sliver to the boy’s lip. Perfect. He was compete.

I stood back and admired my work. He was perfect. The most perfect being I had ever seen. His innocent eyes held a darker and mischievous shadow, and his mouth was plump and soft.

I laughed at myself, imagining myself kissing a painting. The whole time, he watched from his perch on the easel, his eyes following me around the room.

“You can stop looking at me like that,” I said, “I’m gay, you know.”

***

The next morning I was feeling slightly better and convinced my mom to let me go to school. She was reluctantly agreed and I drove Mikey to school. I sat in the car to observe people before I walked in - that weird kid from homeroom trudged up the sidewalk and then ran to catch up with Mikey. I wondered what was going on with the two of them. Mikey was my baby brother, and the guy looked like a seedy character. Mikey seemed happy enough to see him, and they walked into the school together. There was something strange about that kid, and I didn’t like it.

I was so caught up in Mikey’s social life that I didn’t notice Josh and Ray stalk up behind me. They tapped my shoulder, giving me the shock of my life. “Hey!” I yelled, before realising who it was. They burst into hysterical laughter, apparently my face had been “the most hilarious thing ever, man.” I laughed it off and walked into school with them. They hadn’t mentioned Monday night and I was eager for it to stay that way.

First period was Biology, and I was paired with Ray, which made the class fun. He was really into music and we had a lot in common. It seemed I was paired with Ray for most classes, because our names were the last two on the alphabetical rota. However, some teachers had their own rotas according to averages, and for Advanced English I got paired with my total favourite person on this earth; that emo kid from homeroom.

Apparently his name was Frank Iero. Stupid name, if you asked me. Our assignment for the class was to write a paragraph on ourselves which we would then give to our partner. I wrote quite a brief paragraph, outlining as little about my past as possible and focusing mainly on the music I liked.

Frank, on the other hand, wrote several pages of illegible scrawling. I pointed it out to him that his writing was impossible to make out, and he replied with “Want me to give you milk and cookies, tuck you up and read it to you, bitch?”

I sighed. This kid was impossible. So instead of dwelling on his penmanship, I got right to the point that had been bugging me since the first day I’d met him.

“What’s your fucking problem, and what do you want with my kid brother?”

He looked at me for a few seconds, as if he was shocked at what I had said to him.

“My fucking problem,” he spat, “is people like you who judge everyone around them and act all fucking superior. And what’s even more of a problem is that you are a fucking hypocrite. I don’t have a fucking clue who your kid brother is, but whoever he is, I feel sorry for him having an idiotic fucking fag of a brother.”

The bell went, and Frank picked up his books with a disgusted look and stormed off to his next class. I was stunned. He knew. Somehow, he knew I was gay. But how? Mikey wouldn’t tell anyone, I trusted him, but he was the only person I’d told. Did it show? Did I look like a fag now? No, I couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t know. He just used that as an insult. Just an insult.

My heart was in my throat and my breathing was rapid. I hadn’t noticed that the classroom was empty until the English teacher suddenly appeared at my desk, asking me if I was alright. I mumbled a quick “I’m fine,” and left the classroom as quick as possible, almost running. My next class was Art and I barely remembered my way, but somehow I managed to get there.

As I stumbled in the door, I noticed Ms Williams was talking to another student. They turned when they heard me coming in.

“Oh, hello Gerard. This is Frank, the other student in your class I mentioned.”

Frank smirked at me from his desk, and I positioned myself as far away from him as possible, waiting for our assignment to be handed out.

“No actual drawing today boys, we’re going to watch a short piece on an artist I like.”

She glanced at both of us in turn, motioning towards a desk in the centre of the room.

“Well come on, you can hardly see from way out there.”

I slowly moved myself to the desk she’d pointed out, keeping as close to the edge and as far away from Frank as possible. He obviously noticed this, and moved his things into the centre of the table and leaned as close to me as possible. He obviously enjoyed seeing me squirm.

As the opening shots of the video began to play, I tried to focus all of my senses on the screen, and not on the body that was practically on top of me. Words flashed up on the screen; “Caravaggio, the world’s most famous homosexual painter.” Today was just not my lucky day.

The video was short, but not short enough. Every time the word “gay” was mentioned, I fidgeted in my chair, which Frank found amusing. As the closing credits rolled, I felt his hot breath on my neck and heard him whisper breathily into my ear, “Gerard isgay.”

He rolled the word on his tongue, stretching it out and making it sound longer than it really was. I pushed him away from me and gave him a dirty look. He smirked again, seeming pleased with himself.

“Well boys, did you enjoy that piece?” Ms Williams asked.

I looked down, and Frank answered; “I really did Miss. Maybe we could study him a little more in depth?” I glared at him. “I particularly like his painting “St. John the Baptist with a Ram”, maybe you could bring in a copy to show Gerard?” He leered at me.

“That’s a fantastic idea Frank, I had no idea you liked Caravaggio! That painting is one of the most fabulous examples of a male nude in existence,” she said happily. Of course, the bastard wanted to study a male nude. She handed us a worksheet for homework and said we could get started immediately. I finished my sheet before the end of class and began to pack up my things. She dismissed us early, and I made a bolt for the door, but Frank got there first, pushing through the door and pulling me with him. He pinned me to the wall outside the door, and for once, I was glad the art room had a private stairs.

“Did you enjoy that Gerard? Enjoy learning about faggot painters?” he whispered.

He was quite a bit shorter than me, but he had outstanding strength for his size. I could feel his hot breath tickling my neck. He moved his head closer to me, so close I could smell him and feel his soft hair brushing against my face.

Suddenly I could feel something cold and metallic touching me where his breath had been just before. I swallowed. I knew he was a creep but I did not expect him to pull a knife on me. The smooth metal was gone as soon as it had come, and I found myself looking into his eyes, noticing how beautiful the hazel colour of them was.

We were face to face, both breathing heavily and I saw him lean in again. I leaned in too, and our lips were so close they were almost touching. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, but jumped when the bell rang and interrupted the moment. Frank froze and loosened his grip on me enough for me to be able to slip away. I ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reached the top. He was right behind me, and gave me a shove into the hallway.

“Watch your back,” he said quietly, “people don’t like fags at this school.”

And with that, he was gone.