FicWad

Mikey didn't realize just how pathetic and alone he really was until the weekend rolled by. He didn't step foot outside of his room except to eat and piss, and even that was rarely. He found he just didn't have an appetite when he was being forced to exist without Frank around him. It was a girly way to think, he knew, not to mention not very goth-like, but that's how he felt. Dependant. Frank made life okay for once. Mikey wished he lived in Newark so he could hang out with Frank more often than just at lunch and during math. But he knew Frank probably didn't want to see him every day. He had other friends who needed his attention.

Mikey got up from his bed and walked around his depressing room. He passed the vanity--he'd given up calling it a dresser--and looked at himself. He didn't know why he constantly went through this exercise of self-hate. It only managed to make him feel so...like no one would ever want him. He didn't bother with makeup today, since his walls were basically the only thing that would be seeing him, and he looked like a mess. He attempted to smooth down his un-washed, unruly black hair, but soon gave up on that and directed his attention instead to the flower belt hanging limply on the wall by a piece of scotch tape. The flowers had died, the petals turning flakey and dark, but he couldn't bring himself to throw out something that Frank gave him. And somehow they added to the old-world gothic feel of his room. They had the 'everything beautiful eventually dies' feel about them, and Mikey was all about that. It was morbid and damn it if the only thing in the world that was beautiful was his only friend, but Mikey accepted that it will all...end one day, as much as it disturbed him to think that way.

*

Frank was sitting in a booth at McDonald's beside gasp Bob and across from Ray. He was staring out the huge glass windows while Ray and Bob were having a heated debate on whether Metallica was better than Megadeth. (pft, Megadeth's better, totally) Frank was trying his hardest to attempt conversation when a question was thrown at him. He didn't want his friends to notice his deep depression about his separation from Mikey. He never thought he'd hate a weekend, but that's what was miraculously happening. Frank wasn't happy unless he was with Mikey, but that was only possible on the weekdays. So here he was, self-proclaimed punk that he is, missing school. Missing Mikey.

"What's wrong, Frankie?" Bob asked, noticing how quiet the boy had become since they first arrived at McDonald's. He hoped it didn't have anything to do with Mikey. The weekend was his time with Frankie, finally away from the goth kid who had captured Frank's attention, and continues to do that every time they see each other. Bob knew subconsciously that it was more than friendship, but he refused to let himself believe it. He needed to hold onto the hope that one day Frankie will like him back, and he can finally be happy.

Frank scooted closer and hugged Bob's arm. "Nothing." he answered. He nuzzled his face into Bob's beard, which he loved. The scruffiness of it was familiar to him, made him feel safe. Even if he hated it when people tried to protect him, he did like to feel safe when he was sad and vulnerable like this. And Bob's arms were his safe haven. They always have been, from the time they were in middle school and Frank would get picked on for being so small. That eventually passed, and everyone accepted him as a cute, short boy that girls adored, but the safe feeling he got from Bob never faded.

"Are you sure? It doesn't have anything to do with-"

"Bob, you said you wouldn't start!" Ray hissed. He wanted just one day where Bob didn't get all pissy, but things were heading that way quickly. He was starting to feel sorry for poor Frankie, since Bob had been blowing up at him for the smallest things. He hated the look Frank got when he was getting yelled at for...even mentioning Mikey, or just not talking as much as usual. Ray sympathized with Frank. He didn't enjoy the wrath of Bob either.

Frank sighed and scooted away from Bob, leaning instead against the wall since Bob had the outside seat in the booth. "Yes, I miss him. So what?" he snapped. He frowned and poked violently at the salad in front of him with his fork. "And I don't see why you don't like him. If you would just spend a few minutes talking to him, you'd like him too. He's not all dark and depressing like you'd think. He's sweet."

"He's sweet," Bob mocked, rolling his eyes. Frank punched him in the arm, hard. He wasn't in the fucking mood for this right now.

"Shut up Bob," he growled. He wasn't all that menacing, really. He was still debating on whether he was feeling more rage, or more separation anxiety.

"Shut up, Bob."

"Oh my god, you are so fucking self centered! Just because you are mad at me for hanging out with Mikey, which I don't see how it's your business anyway, it doesn't give you the right to bitch about it. And...you know what else?" Frank's voice got softer.

"What, Frank?" Bob asked. He didn't want to hear anything else, because he had a sinking suspicion Frank was going to yell at him more. He hated Frank being mad at him, but couldn't stop himself. Once Bob was pissed, he couldn't shut his mouth.

Frank gulped a little. He wasn't sure if he was ready to admit this piece of information outside of his head. It was big...for him at least. Foreign.

"I like him." Frank said softly, hoping Bob would get the meaning so he wouldn't have to elaborate. He was already nervous about having to admit that he likes boys, let alone the one boy that Bob hates, and who probably isn't gay in the first place.

Bob frowned, getting even more pissed off. How dare he like Mikey when Bob has liked Frank forever? What did the goth kid have that Bob didn't? Besides a shit load of make up and a morbid outlook on life, of course. Frank reached over tentatively to grab Bob's arm, to calm him down somehow, but Bob jerked away and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, is he your boyfriend, then?" he spat. Frank shook his head.

"No...he's not gay...." Frank said, sounding like it was the most horrid news in the world.

*

After talking with Frank last weekend, Bob hated Mikey even more. He was going to try to not get in a fight, even if he did think he could flatten Mikey in two seconds. He watched Mikey walk across the school yard, looking down at his shoes as he did. He looked up and saw Bob glaring at him, but just shook his head. Bob didn't scare him.

Mikey went to his locker, slightly worried that a repeat of his fight with Bob would occur. It wasn't even really a fight, more like two boys pushing each other. But that's obviously what constituted as a fight in high school. Either way, he didn't want to be crushed against his locker again, especially if there was no reason for it. He wasn't after Frank.

He slammed his locker after getting his things and walked to his Chemistry class. Mikey was lucky, he had a seat in the very back of the room where he could basically be left alone, not including the occasional glance from a classmate. After ten minutes of sitting in his seat idly, trying not to think about Bob or Frank, he decided to get out a sheet of paper and do...something. He could either write or draw. But he did not possess the artistic ability that his brother did, sadly, and what the hell was he supposed to write? A love note to Frank? Ha!

Mikey was off in his own thoughts staring at the pen in his hand when a paper wad suddenly landed on his arm. He looked up and saw a few guys turned around in their seats with matching cold sneers plastered on their faces. Bitches.

He imagined himself getting up out of his seat, going over to the guys, and shoving pencils through each of their foreheads. Of course, he knew he'd never do it, he knew better, but it still made him feel slightly better to watch them suffer. In his mind, of course. He didn't want to go to jail for the rest of his life at the young age of seventeen. They'd beat him up in jail...or maybe even worse, since he had a slightly feminine body and wore makeup. (eesh, prison sex...)

Another paper wad flew at him but missed his completely and hit the wall beside his head, bouncing to the floor. Mikey glared at the boys again before mouthing, "I'll kill you," very clearly. By the shocked expressions on their faces, Mikey saw with satisfaction that they understood and believed him. They turned around in their seats quickly, fearing for their lives. Mikey was very pleased with himself. Life is easier when everyone thinks you'll kill them for pissing you off. He was finally starting to see the perks of being goth.

As soon as Mikey stepped through the doorway of his math class, the one with Bob and Frank and Ray (which meant he was on guard anyway), he was attacked and pinned to the wall. He was about to kick ass (yeah right) until he realized it was just Frank giving him a very forceful hug. Mikey's hands slipped around to Frank's back so he could properly return the hug.

"So Mikey..." Frank began, his voice muffled since he was pressed flat against Mikey's chest. He craned his neck to look up. "How was your weekend? Mine was really, really boring." Without you... he added in his mind.

"The same. Confined to my room for all eternity because I live in Belleville where nothing ever happens," Mikey said airily. Frank was surprised. Mikey never mentioned that he lived in Belleville. Why did he waste so much time driving all the way to Newark for school? Oh, Frank was elated having Mikey as a classmate, and would surely cry if he left, but it was still a little odd.

"Hmmm...Belleville....I used to live there for a little while. I kinda miss it. It was nice and small...like me." Mikey laughed and squeezed Frank.

"Right. Glad you can finally admit that, Frank." He chewed on the top of his lip, slowly gaining the courage to ask his next question. How can he phrase it without sounding as desperate and needy as he really was? "Uhm, you can come over to my house this weekend if you miss the quiet so bad. Though if you're there, I don't know how it can possibly remain that way for long..." There, that wasn't so bad. And it made Frank's face light up, something that Mikey loved.

"Really? Yay! I have plans!" Frank exclaimed, bouncing up and down while still managing to hug Mikey. He gets to go to Mikey's house. God, why can't the weekend hurry the fuck up? Wait, no, he didn't want that. He needed time to prepare himself so he doesn't act like a fucktard in front of Mikey. Damn if he didn't feel like a teenage girl with a huge crush going out on her first date. That scenario really had nothing to do with what was really happening, but fuck that. He wasn't supposed to be thinking rationally right now anyway. Yay, Mikey's house!

Bob and Ray walked though the door and Bob spared a look of disgust at Frank and Mikey as they hugged. It wasn't fair. He was here long before Mikey was, and if he has any say in it he'll be here a lot longer as well. Obviously his daydreams about hurting Mikey had quickly progressed to murderous wishes. Mikey took notice of the bloodlust in Bob's eyes.

"Frank, are you Bob fighting? He seems to hate me extra today," Mikey said. Frank sighed and nodded.

"Yeah. I really don't mean to bring you into this. I'll try to make up with him later...he just gets so pissy with me sometimes, and--pft, nevermind. It's my problem, not yours." Frank hugged Mikey once more, then retreated to his seat. Mikey found his own seat, two rows away and three seats back.

Ms. Jameson stood at the front of the class, running her finger over her clipboard in the nervous way she does. Ever since Michael had switched to this school, she felt uneasy in her fifth period class. It was an awful stereotype, she knew, but couldn't shake the feeling that one day the goth kid would snap and blow everyone's brains out. She wasn't an idiot, she saw the news. Shit like that happened all the time, and the shooters were always social outcasts that everyone made fun of in high school.

"O-okay, class, today we will be working in partners, so pair up and I'll tell you the assignment," she announced. Frank groaned at the news. He had always been Bob's partner when this happened, and Ray would just copy answers later. But now that Mikey was here...well, he needed to make up with Bob, and picking him would certainly quicken things. So, Frank hastily jumped out of his seat and ran over to Bob. He grabbed his arm.

"I call Bob," Frank said. Bob was surprised when Frank shooed Ray out of his seat and took his place in front of him. Bob tried to ignore Frank, like he had been all morning, but this put a damper on his plans. Frank poked Bob on the arm and waited for him to speak. Frank clasped his hands together and sighed, determined not to be the one who had to speak first. He didn't know what to say, for one. If he just spurted out with something random, Bob might get even more annoyed.

"Don't you want to be partners with Mikey?" Bob asked, looking over to where Mikey and Ray were sitting, no doubt only being partners because they were the only two left. Neither looked too pleased with the outcome. Mikey felt Bob staring but didn't look up to check. He didn't care.

"No...Bob, don't be like that. You're still my best friend!" Frank yelled, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He would rather be partners with Mikey, but he had to get this over with. He needed to make up with Bob quickly. He'd never been in a fight with him before, and didn't like the uncertainty about the whole situation. What if Bob never wanted to make up? Frank wouldn't be able to handle that.

"Frankie...how can we still be friends after....knowing what we know?" Bob asked. And, by 'what we know' he meant the fact that he liked Frank, but Frank liked Mikey, and they were stuck in some weird ass gay love triangle. And they weren't even sure that Mikey was gay, but just look at the boy. He wears make up and dyes his hair. Not that that made him automatically gay. Bob was the proof that very straight-looking guys can be gay, and who knows, Mikey could be straight.

"Bob, we can just forget about all of that shit, can't we? Please?" Frank clasped both of his hands around Bob's and pleaded with his eyes. Bob had to look away from his face, opting instead to study the way their hands looked together. Frank's smaller, cuter, calloused hands next to his larger ones seemed right, like they always had. Through all the years of automatic cuddling, just friendly in Frank's eyes, Bob always felt that there was that sense of being right.

"No, we can't forget it because I love you..." Bob said quietly. He didn't want the others in the class to hear. He didn't want Frank to hear, honestly. He didn't want to have to out his feelings for Frank to undoubtedly crush, no one does, It's frightening, knowing the boy you've secretly loved for who knows how long likes someone else, but you still need that last reassurance, as shitty as it feels, You need him to say 'I don't love you' so it can be over and you can go home to mend the broken pieces of your heart.

"I love you too Bob, just not in the romantic sense. I know that's what you were meaning...but I do love you as my best friend, I really do!" Frank said. The incessant buzzing of their classmates' talking filled the room so he didn't have to worry about people hearing him. He doubted they would even care if he, the baby of the school, told another boy he loved him. It must seem childish coming from him, just words without meaning. In a way, he was being even more severely stereotyped against than Mikey.

"I know that, Frank. Just...let's forget it, alright? I don't want to talk about this anymore," Bob growled. He crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive way, signaling the end of any talk about feelings, or other subjects that would make Bob uncomfortable.

"Are you mad at me?" Frank asked. Bob took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It wasn't Frankie's fault things turned out this way, he knew that. Frank couldn't help that he liked Mikey any more than Bob couldn't help loving Frankie.

"Naw, I'm not mad at you, Frankie," Bob sighed. Frank grinned and leaned up to kiss Bob's cheek, missing the scruffy texture of his beard and the familiarity of the act, not realizing until too late that it might be destructive to his friend's dejected state. Bob leaned into the peck, slightly trying to prolong the time that Frank's lips were pressed against his skin.

"There, everything's better," Frank said brightly after he pulled away.