Ray reacts in ways no one believes he would.
All he could see were Frank and Gerard pressed together, over and over, their bodies touching.
He dunked his head underwater, kept it there for a good twenty seconds, until he saw red behind his eyelids.
Shit. WHat in God's name happening?
And then someone grabbed him by the neck and hair, dragged him, slammed him against a wall.
Ray was too surprised to really be able to talk. He tried to swallow but the prick of a blade and the glimmer of metal made his heart beat fast and his panicked mind start running in circles.
"Toro. Listen. Listen to me. - he slammed him against the wall, again - Listen. If one word gets out. I one little fucking word gets out, if me, or Gerard go through shit because you spilled the goddamn, fucking beans, I swear to God I'll destroy you. I swear."
"You know what? I'm pretty sure God needs to take care of a few more important things than punishing a bunch of faggots doing it."
"God never looks away from those who sin."
Frank didn't really know what was going on, or what he was doing. But there was this little voice, whispering, and fear of what might've happened if news got out made his mind work frantically.
Hysteria had bit down after all.
He delicately dragged the blade along Toro's cheek.
It didn't cut, but it was enough to make Ray squirm.
"Well then, I guess God will look away for once."
What the fuck are you doing, Frank.
I don't know I don't know I don't fucking know.
He flicked the blade.
Stop. Frank. Stop.
But if he talks.
He will. They always do.
Billie fucking Poe.
He'd killed him.
You had to.
No. I didn't.
Frank looked at Toro's wet face.
Let him go.
And then Toro had dug his nails into Frank's chest, pushed him across the room, slammed him against the opposite wall.
Pressed his lips against his.
Frank found himself screaming, inside.
It was everything all over again.
No. Get off of me.
He dug his nails into Toro's neck.
Ray pressed himself against him.
Iero felt the tears choke him.
He wouldn't cry. No.
Man the fuck up.
But then Toro touched him between the legs.
LET ME GO.
Maggots in his bloodstream.
He needed to burn. Needed to scream.
Rip the skin off.
Annihilate a body that's no longer yours.
It was everything all over again.
Raped by a beer bottle rammed up his ass.
And he'd bit back.
A hurt animal always bights back.
But now it was different.
Now it was so fucking different.
He started crying, deep, hysterical, panicked sobs.
Ray didn't really know what was going on, or what he was doing. There was this little voice, whispering, telling him to do Frank. Telling him to take him.
Because he wanted him, didn't he?
And who cared if it was wrong, if they would've all burned for it.
He needed to.
He knew he did.
Frank moaned, didn't even have the energy left to scream or sob.
Prayed for someone to come in, and find them.
But no one did.
Stop. Ray. Stop.
You can. He's your friend. He's a man.
But I need this.
You don't. You need Christa. You need to go and lie down and sleep and make some order in your head.
No. I need him.
He's your friend. Let him go.
I NEED THIS.
And he ripped himself away.
Frank's knees gave out, he crumbled to the floor.
Summer evening. Hanging out.
Let's go skinny dipping, she'd screamed.
She was pretty. She was smart.
She was Billie Poe's girlfriend.
And he was Billie's friend.
He felt vomit burn the inside of his stomach.
What have you done.
I don't know.
And he didn't. He was scared and confused and they were both shaking.
Frank felt numb.
All over again.
A hot bath.
Scrub the filth away.
Scrub your skin away.
Destroy it all.
The back of his head was on fire. Ray had slammed him hard.
The back of his head was on fire.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and when Ray touched his face he punched him hard and ran out and slammed a door shut behind him and all he could think of was Billie Poe and the face he'd made when he'd pulled the trigger frozen in a laugh and he curled up on the floor and he cried, and cried, and cried.