FicWad

Mikey still had that sense of unease each time he reached his locker, not only because of Bob but also because of his experiences at his old school. His nose had been broken on the edge of one of those metal fuckers. He could still remember the shame he felt as he dropped to the floor, hand held up to his nose to stifle the blood flowing freely down his lips, his chin, pooling on the blue shirt he'd been forced to throw away because the stains, those fucking maroon splotches that he couldn't remove no matter how many times he washed the shirt. He'd sunk down, crying, screaming for them to stop, but the outburst only excited them, the group of boys who hated him just because they needed someone to beat up, someone too weak to fight back so they could look tough in front of their girlfriends.

Really, Mikey didn't see how that could make anyone look tough. Oooh, you can beat up the ninety-pound nerd with glasses, you're so goddamn st-rawng! Especially when it's three on one! It was just fucking mindless violence, just doing it because they can. That's why Bob didn't bother him. Bob hated him for an actual reason, unknown to Mikey, but there was a purpose! Finally, there was some purpose to this otherwise chaotic life he was forced to exist in! Even if it had to come in the form of hate that he did nothing to provoke.

Bob was glaring at Mikey right now, actually, from his own locker a few feet away. It was his new favorite past time. Ray was trying desperately to draw his attention away, dreading another fight between the two. Honestly, Ray kind of liked Mikey. They had made light conversation last period in math, and Ray decided the goth kid was very pleasant once you get him started on comic books or video games, or any normal dorky route similar to those. Plus, he was damn bright and finished the work quickly, and also had no qualms about letting Ray copy. He was okay.

"Oh, Bob, come on! Forget about him, alright? You made up with Frank, everyone's friends again, so drop it. He's not a bad guy," Ray said, thinking it would help matters. But the fact that Ray didn't hate Mikey too just pissed Bob off further. First he takes Frankie, now Ray? Nuh-uh, motherfucker. He slammed his locker closed with enough force to jar the lockers on either side of his. Mikey looked up, slightly startled by the loud noise, and saw Bob. Of course it would be him. This time, he wanted to know what his problem was.

Mikey closed his own locker and walked over to the seething Bob, ignoring Ray's sweeping hand gestures telling him silently to go away. He stood in front of Bob defiantly, one hand placed on his hip and the other raised to push his glasses up. "Bob, why do you hate me? What did I do to you?" he demanded. He probably looked like a little punk doing it, demanding answers like this. Good.

Bob gave the kid points for being brave. Most guys his size--anorexic--would usually try to avoid people who could kick their ass. "I hate you because you stole Frank," he growled. Before Mikey could comprehend what was happening, a fist collided with his chest, sending him reeling backwards into the nearest locker. the lock dug into his back but only for a moment, because he soon slid down and landed in a heap on the floor, wheezing and out of breath.

Bob's fist was a fucking sledgehammer, and Mikey worried for a moment that one of his ribs were cracked. It wouldn't be the first time. He exhaled slowly and groaned when pain shot through his abdomen. Shit, all of his precautions were meaningless now. He was getting beaten up again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was going to have to go home and tell his parents that it happened again. Oh well.

"Asshole!" he yelled, struggling to get back on his feet. He wasn't resigning to laying in the floor, waiting for it to stop, anymore. He leaned his back against the lockers and tried to push himself to his feet with his legs, but his strength left him after another hard punch from Bob, this one landing on his left shoulder and causing him a lot more pain than the first.

It was all he could think of to kick out at Bob's legs and send the boy crashing down to fall flat on his back. Bob didn't stay down for long. He was back on his feet in seconds, and started kicking Mikey in the side, hating him more and more by the second. Why won't he give up already? He felt a spark of satisfaction when he made Mikey cry out in pain as his shoe connected with a bone and made a sick crunching noise.

Frank heard a shout from the senior hallway, and even though he wanted to get to lunch badly, his curiosity was too great and he went running off to investigate. Most of the students were already either in the lunchroom or outside, so he didn't have to deal with the usual stampede of people much taller than him. There, at the end of the hall was the cause of all the noise. Bob was kicking Mikey. Frank felt a rush of hate for Bob and went charging down the hall. He tackled Bob to the ground with all the force he had, and thankfully it was enough.

Bob landed on the ground with Frank glaring down at him. "Bob, what the hell?" he demanded, venom dripping from every syllable as he glared down at the boy who hurt Mikey. Bob pushed Frank off of him and got up. He knew there was no way to remedy this. He'd really went too far this time. He didn't even realize how badly Mikey was hurt until he really looked at the kid, laying on his side in a sprawled out mess on the floor, wheezing and shaking.

Frank hurried over to Mikey. He dropped so he could assess the damage. Frank reached out to put a hand on Mikey's cheek lightly. "Mikey..." he whispered.

The boy's eyes fluttered open--he'd closed them previously out of pain--and he slowly sat up. The first thing he noticed was that Frank was hovering over him, looking really worried. The next thing was that he was being pulled into a forceful hug. Frank's arms touched some of his bruises, but he didn't flinch in fear that he would pull away. "Are you okay?" Frank asked, smoothing Mikey's hair down out of sheer need to do something. What he really wanted to do was hold Mikey, to kiss him, to protect him. But he couldn't, not without Mikey pushing him away.

Mikey nodded and laid his head on Frank's shoulder. He felt a sudden wave of nausea and needed something sturdy to cling to. He clutched even tighter to Frank, clutching the fabric of his jacket with both of his hands. "You sure?" came Frank's soft voice in his ear.

His own voice was shaky. "Y-yeah. Don't worry, Frank." He tried to reassure his friend even as a wave of pain settled over him. He trued to stifle his groan against Frank's neck, but it was loud. Frank winced as he heard Mikey in pain.

Bob looked at the two boys cuddled in the floor, saw how concerned Frank was, and for once didn't feel jealous. He felt sick. Bile rose up in his throat as he realized he had hurt Frank just as much as he did Mikey. This is probably the worst thing he could have done. Frank will never forgive him for this. Fuck! If he didn't have such a bad fucking temper...He'd only managed to make up with Frank for one period, and of course he messes up! Oh, and that look Frank was giving him!

"Bob, go away," Frank growled, quickly turning back to Mikey and doing meaningless little things. He smoothed down the boy's hair, straightened his shirt, wiped off a bit of eyeliner that had smudged, then wiped off a spot of blood from his lip where Mikey'd bitten down too hard. Just desperate little touches to try and cover up how upset he really was.

Bob took his cue to leave, wondering on the way whether Ray would follow him. Ray, who'd been present for the whole ordeal, still stood in stunned silence as Bob walked past him, offering him a questioning glance. He didn't know whether to stay or go. He always feels so indecisive choosing between Frank and Bob. He actually wanted to leave, but couldn't tear his eyes away from Frank. Ray had never seen him so worried about someone, so blatantly loving. Frank was normally the one being comforted.

This was probably one of the worst beatings Mikey'd ever been through. Definitely not the worst, but sure as hell one of them. He knew he'd be bruised for weeks, he might even have to go to the doctor again. But he wasn't all that mad. He tried to fight back, at least, and now he had Frank to take care of him instead of that awful nurse at his old school who'd pretty much given up on him after he showed up four times in one week. And Frank's simple concern was better than all the fucking ice packs and Advil the nurse could give him.

"Are you sure you're okay, Mikey?" Frank asked, worry projecting from his voice. Mikey smiled against his neck and nodded again.

"Yes, Frank, I'm fine. Geez, you're as bad as my mom."

"Well, sorry, but I'm worried." Frank's arms slid away from Mikey's back, and Mikey felt a little jolt of shock. Maybe he said something wrong? Frank was just worried, and he should be flattered. He was flattered, in fact. He loved that Frank, anyone really, but especially him, cared about him. He wanted Frank to keep hugging him and making a fuss over his well being.

Frank's hands slipped up to Mikey's face. Oh, how needy he looked. Finally, Frank had someone to love and take care of, even if the feeling wasn't reciprocated. Much like Bob...never mind. He smiled at Mikey and got one in return. He wanted so badly to lean down and plant small little kisses all over Mikey's face, but knew they weren't that close. This wasn't like Ray or Bob, who he could be cuddly with any time, this was an emotionally starved goth kid in pain. So Frank settled for asking Mikey again if he was okay.

Mikey rolled his eyes and nodded once again. Yes, he was fine and such, now he needed to be held or something. But Frank remained immobile, his eyes flickering over Mikey's face the only movement between the two.

How could Frank put into words this insatiable need to protect Mikey that he felt? Ha, and a good fucking job he's done so far. "I'm sorry Mikey. It's my fault Bob did this," Frank said, running his thumb over Mikey's cheek. He saw the other boy's eyebrows furrow.

"Don't be sorry about it. Having a friend like you makes it all worth it. Besides--" Mikey looked away from Frank's caring gaze. "I've been hurt a lot worse than this. And no one cared back then. No one gave a fuck about me until you came along. So I'm fine with it." He hugged Frank tightly around the waist, and was finally rewarded with Frank's arms slipping down to pull him closer to his chest Frank buried his face in the top of Mikey's head, feeling his soft black hair and smiling despite the way the boy'd just struck something in his heart by those words.

It shouldn't be like this. Nobody had the right to hurt Mikey, not when Frank knew he'd done nothing to deserve it. He planted a little kiss on the top of Mikey's head, so small he probably didn't even feel it.

*

Frank saw his mom sitting at the kitchen table eating oreos and milk, and decided to join her. He got his own glass down from the cupboard that was almost too high to reach, and filled it with cold milk, sitting down beside his mom. He had a good relationship with his mom, since it was just the two of them now. His parents divorced six years ago, and while he visited his dad every now and then, he would forever favor his mom. It wasn't like the punk songs he always listened to, about how parents are bad and don't understand you. He loved his parents. He also loved his music, but didn't always relate to it. Sure, he hated authority like any good punk should, but not his mom.

"Hey, Frankie hon. How was school?" His mom asked, running a hand through Frank's bangs affectionately. He reached across the table and took an oreo from the blue box they came in, then dipped it in his milk.

"It was pure crap," he said before stuffing the soggy cookie in his mouth. Well, he thought, he did get to hold Mikey, to learn just a little more about his past. Even if that knowledge came coupled with the sharp jabs to his insides for the boy. As an afterthought, Frank added, "Teenage romance, that kind of cliche, emotional sh...crap that makes you wanna vomit."

His mom nodded knowingly. Aw, Frankie liked someone! But it didn't seem like he was too happy. Before, when he had a crush on someone, he'd be very boring and gush about all the perfect traits the lucky girl had. Eye color, hair color, what kind of music she likes, whether she likes comic books...but three minutes had passed with Frank just sitting there, lost in his thoughts. His dark eyebrows furrowed, lacing his normally pleasant expression with frustration.

"What's wrong, Frankie?" she asked, putting a hand on her son's shoulder.

'I'm...really pissed at Bob right now. He just can't stop picking fights, and I hate it. He was beating up one of my friends, Mikey, today. I was at my locker, getting ready to go to lunch, but I heard something in the senior hallway and decided to go check it out." Frank sighed, feeling rage bubble up in him again at the memory of Mikey on the floor while Bob fucking kicked him. That wasn't even a real fight, it was just violence. He didn't give Mikey the chance to get up. Frank's eyes tightened into fists and he breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. "I tackled Bob. He was just fu...just kicking Mikey, while Ray stood off to the side, being useless. So I ran at Bob, stopped him, and made him go away. I wish I could have hurt him, but I wasn't even thinking..."

She nodded once again. Bob had been to the house plenty of times. Enough for her to see that the boy did have a bad temper. But who was this other boy he mentioned, Mikey? She hadn't heard him mention him before. "Who's Mikey? Is he new?"

"Yeah. He's been here for about a week. Actually, I was wondering if I could go over to his house this weekend. He lives in Belleville. So can I?" he asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully. If he wasn't going to Mikey's house, he'd have nothing to do since he'd basically disowned Bob and Ray. He can not be cooped up in his room for two days, he'd die.

*

"God, I look awful," Mikey said to himself as he examined his shirtless body. The skin below his chest, between his sharply protruding rib cages, was an awful mix of red, blue, and purple. He didn't even want to go into the details of his badly beaten sides. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, succeeding in messing it up and making it stand on end. He poked at the bruise on his chest, delighting in the yellow color it turned under his fingers. After years of this shit, pain didn't really bother him. It's almost to the point where he likes it. There was a little rush of adrenaline every time he got hurt. He just meant small things, like hitting his hip on the sharp corner or accidentally biting his jaw when he ate. It's not like he enjoyed getting beaten up.

Mikey searched around the room for the shirt he'd discarded and found it underneath his bed. He held it up, studying the pattern of white criss-crossed lined that made up an intricate network of roots on a black background with the words Joy Division written at the bottom. Yep, now all he wore was black shirts that proudly proclaimed what bands he liked. Because, of course, that shows what kind of person you are. Note sarcasm, if you will. He pulled the t-shirt on, not able to stand looking at his own pale, lanky body any more.

He was just a mess of self-hating, depressed, condescending behavior. He felt like the world is forgetting him, throwing him in some limbo so he won't get in the way of those who matter. Worse of all, he was dragging Frank down with him.

*

On Friday, Frank was planning on leaving school with Mikey and going to his house. Finally the day has come! That morning, Frank did something he never thought he would. He cared about his appearance. He put on a black wife beater layered under a red jacket, skin tight, slightly gay pants that made his ass look good, if he did say so himself, and a beanie over his messy dark hair. He just wanted that look. The appreciative look from Mikey that said 'wow'. The same look he gave Mikey everyday.

He packed some random clothes into his overnight bag and hooked the strap with his thumb, slinging it over his shoulder. The familiar weight settled around him, and he took a moment to breathe before going into the kitchen. His mom had already left for work. She was a nurse at a hospital downtown. Sometimes Frank worried about his mom working in the bad part of town. He always worried that one day he'd go home and wait for her, but she'd never show up. It pained him to think of him mom being in the local paper's obituary just because some fuck decided to go gun happy at the hospital, the one place that tries to help people.

He put a hand on the counter to steady himself. He just needed to get to school quickly and find Mikey. He has a way to make the world stop spinning.

Mikey leaned against the wall of the school building, waiting for Frank at their usual spot. Yeah, they had a spot now. Every morning Mikey waited, smoking a cigarette and flipping off whoever gave him dirty looks. Being around Frank had gave him loads of confidence that he never thought he'd possess. He saw Frank across the schoolyard, making his way to their spot with his head down. Mikey smiled to himself as he studied the way Frank looked. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, and he was taking long strides with his short legs.

Frank was still thinking about his mom, this time worrying if she'd be okay without him all weekend. He's not even going to be in the same town. He kept worrying until he felt Mikey's arm slip around his waist. That brought him back to reality with a jolt. He found his arms circling around Mikey automatically, settling into the hug comfortably. He rested his fore head against Mikey's shoulder.

"Hi, Mikey," Frank said pleasantly. He leaned up and pressed his nose into the hollow of Mikey's cheek, putting a lot of affection in the action.He didn't really care if Mikey read too much into the action. He'd be completely right if he did. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? Mikey would never ask if Frank liked him, he was too shy. He'd just mull it over in his brain for a long time.

"Wow, you seem cuddly this morning," Mikey mused. He slipped his other arm around Frank's shoulders in a proper hug. He saw people giving them odd looks, and would have flipped them off if his hands weren't busy. He didn't give a fuck if they judged him, they were going to any way. It as inevitable, with the way he dressed. But who were they to look down upon Frank? Frank was perfect, and they were jealous. "Stupid fucks," Mikey said to himself.

"Who is?" Frank asked. Mikey let his arms fall to his sides and shrugged. Society, he wanted to say. Everyone who wants to judge him, or everyone who wants to sweep him under the rug and forget about him. But, in a way, that was a stereotype in itself. Everyone's out to get him. Yeah, right. No one cares enough, do they? It makes him feel rather unimportant.

"Hey, Frank, you ever feel like no one cares? Like...you're there, but not? People see you as...just a waste of space?" Mikey asked quietly. He didn't want to dump his emo mood on Frank, but he needed to be comforted. He needed to hear Frank say he was important.

"Mikey, don't you dare think like that," Frank said sternly. He placed both of his hands on Mikey's cheeks and looked serious. "I care. So you can't go around moping about how everyone hates you because it'll never be true. So be happy, kay? Smile for me." He had to put on a cheesy grin before he saw Mikey's lips twitch at the corners.

"You're a grade A dork, Frank," Mikey said, outright beaming. He tugged at one of the dark lock curling out from under Frank's beanie. "Honestly, you remind me of my brother, and it doesn't get much dorkier than him. He dances round in his room to Ziggy Stardust while fantasizing about Star Wars and when the new issue of Fangoria will be out."

"Ah!" Frank scoffed. "I think you're brother sounds cool! Unlike you, Mikey. You're probably even worse than him when you think you're in the sanctity of your room. But we're never alone, really..." He lowered his voice down to a whisper and leaned up to Mikey's ear. "The aliens are always watching us. They stole all the cows from Jersey, and that's why you never see a farm round here."

Mikey chucked and pushed Frank away playfully. Frank pouted at the action but backed off anyway. Mikey wasn't the kind of guy that liked to be all touchy, and Frank had a feeling he'd used up all the physical contact he was getting for today. Ah, dammit, and the day just started, too.

"Hmp, I see you are a non-believer. Now disappointing." Frank pretended to regard key with contempt, curtly turning on his heel to walk toward the school entrance. His walk had a deliberate... swing to it, even if his overly tight jeans restricted movement. The lovely view was not lost on Mikey. He tagged along a few steps behind instead of speeding up to walk alongside Frank just to enjoy the sight.

It didn't occur to Mikey until he realized his eyes had been glued to Frank for a good five minutes that he was checking him out. He was leaning against the wall, watching Frank open his locker, his breath catching in his throat when Frank leaned up and his shirt rose, exposing a gorgeous glimpse of his olive-coloured hip. But then it was over, and Frank was pulling his shirt back down. Mikey retreated back to his own locker before Frank realized he was being admired.

The whole way to his locker, down the senior hall and past all the stares, he thought about how...wrong his mind worked. Frank is his friend, not...anything more. They do not have the potential to be anything more. Mikey wasn't even gay! He...wasn't anything. He could look at a girl and find her attractive, but not want to date her. He knew he'd never get a chance anyway, but if he magically turned into a hot guy, one that girls would actually want to date, he wouldn't do it. He couldn't see himself dating anyone. But he wanted Frank. He wanted to know Frank belonged to him, as Bob-like as it sounds. It wasn't even the fact that he wanted to own Frank, because that wasn't it. It was complicated.