Your Heart on the Line

When I showed up at school the next day, I tried my best not to have a heavy heart when it came to Frank. Still, it was hard. I was aware that he had hurt me, even inadvertently so, but I was hoping that acknowledging the pain would make it less, only it didn’t. Having my heart broken hurt just as much when I knew what was happening. Although it hurt, I knew that I couldn’t let it show. As much as I wanted to talk about it, I knew that it was probably for the best that he didn’t remember. Not only that, but a bigger part of me didn’t want to catch feelings over some dumb Italian boy with a soft stomach and amber eyes. Not to mention, even if I was totally okay with having these sort of emotions coursing through me (trust me, I wasn’t), I knew every one of my friends well enough to know how relentlessly they would tease me for it. They could be merciless at times, that was for sure; I’d seen what happened when Frank was caught wearing briefs, and I didn’t want something of that nature to happen to me. Frank was more casual about it, with a thicker skin. He could handle it better than I could ever hope to. While they might make fun of Frank, he has a great ability as brushing it off as stupid boy behavior. Meanwhile, I know myself, and I know that I wouldn’t be able to do the same.

We sat at lunch together, Frank and I, and Christ, I swear it hurt to look at him. He was so beautiful, and we had been legendary, only the moment we made was no longer in his memory. They spoke, all of the boys at my table, about trivial things like tests and whether or not so and so was wearing a bra. I watched Frank as he spoke, insisting, “I’m telling you; tits are not perky like that on their own. She’s wearing a bra, but not a good one, because she’s nipping, hard.”

Why did I like that stupid idiot? I couldn’t tell you. Did he have a bad boy appeal that convinced me I could somehow change him? Was he the only one to reach out to the new Gerard in a way that no one else had? Or did he just have a cute voice and nice ass? I couldn’t tell you; all I knew was that it was magnetic, the way I was drawn to him. His eyes flicked over to me, those warm pools of caramel that just melt in my direction.

“Gerard, you deaf?” Frank chuckled.

Blushing, I asked, “Wait, what?”

Frank scoffed, shifting his weight towards me as he reiterated, “I said, what’s your input on the tit talk?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

This made everyone at the table raise their eyebrows, and Bert was quick to challenge, “Look at Gerard Gay over here on his pedestal made of shit. What is it like to mingle among us commoners, good sir?”

“Do not call me that,” I demanded. “Where did you hear that?”

Everyone was quiet. Bert answered softly, “I made it up. No need to get all sore.”

Looking from person to person, I saw exactly how sore I had come off. I shook my head, standing up. I wrung my hands, apologizing rapidly as I stammered out, “I-I didn’t- oh shit- I- sorry- I’m...” with that, I left, turning a sharp corner.

I was going to get some fresh air, that’s all. I left so I could go outside, get some fresh air in me, and collect my thoughts. That’s all that I wanted. I didn’t know that Frank had tailed me shortly after I left, struggling to collect his things. I didn’t know that he had darted through the halls after me, searching. I really didn’t know that those boys who torment me had seen me leave as well, and that they were taking the short way around.

I hadn’t been outside for more than a moment when I heard them. “Look who it is, Gerard Gay everyone.” I turned to run, but he was behind me, one of them. He grabbed one of my arms and twisted it into the air, pushing my back down as I cried out in pain.

“Let me go!” I grunted, fighting against him. It was no use; he was stronger than me. I watched helplessly as the rest of his buddies approached, scowling menacingly. “I’m going to rearrange your fucking female face, you freak.”

“HEY!”

Everyone turned, except for me; my peripheral was hindered to the point that I couldn’t make out who had yelled. It sounded familiar, but I didn’t know whose side they were on, mine or theirs.

Suddenly, I saw the familiar frame make its way towards them. It was Frank, and his hand was trembling he was so angry. “You back the fuck away from him. Let him go.”

“Or what, midget?” one of them asked. “You’re not as big or as bad as you think you are, Iero.”

“Yeah,” another agreed. “Just because you dress in black doesn’t mean that you’re not a faggot.”

“Oh, see I was wondering why I recognized you,” one spoke. “Now I remember; you’re that little fucking freak that got passed around from guy to guy at parties, totally fucking smashed out of your mind. Does Way know you have crabs?”

Frank’s hand shook furiously. “Fuck… you.”

“All talk, Frankie,” one of them said. Suddenly, I was shoved down, and I watched as one of them pinned Frank to the wall of the building. He held the base of Frank’s neck tightly, also planting a sharp knee into the back of his thigh. “Hey fellas, wanna know if goth faggots really wear all black?” With that, he rammed a meaty hand down the back of Frank’s skinnies, and Frank turned a furious shade of red, his voice hitting high registers as he squeaked, “Quit it! Cut it out!”

I watched, totally useless as that hand resurfaced with a knot full of Frank’s blue underwear. As he yanked upward harshly, I saw that Frank was, again, wearing briefs. Frank dipped his head into the wall, suddenly silent as the boys jeered. The boy pulled harder, lifting Frank off of the ground by his waistband before finally, an audible tearing sound was heard. The fabric torn, his aggressor gave up, declaring, “Cute tighty whities, Iero. They suit you.” With that, they sauntered off, one of them licking his own hand and dragging it down Frank’s cheek.

Frank turned, looked at me, and immediately dissolved into a heap, folding his knees to his chest as he buried his head. I watched sadly, slowly crawling over. I nudged his shoulder, asking, “Frank?”

I could hear him crying, and it was almost enough to make me break down right along with him. “Frankie, you were very brave.” I grasped underneath his chin, tilting it so his eyes could meet mine. “Thank you for sticking up for me.” Tears dripping off his jaw, Frank looked at me emptily, so I did what I thought was right at the moment and kissed him. Raising one hand to his cheek, I felt him begin to kiss back, full forcedly so. Frank was a good kisser, I realized, much more attentive to detail than he was when he was drunk. We broke the kiss after a good few moments, and Frank looked at me perplexed. Finally, he cleared his throat and asked in a shaky voice, “My house after school?”

I smiled and nodded.

Notes

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