FicWad

Some days, life is just great for Frank Iero. He can walk down the school hallway with his dark tinted aviator sunglasses slipped far down on his nose, far enough for his sultry hazel eyes to poke out playfully from above them, chewing on the inside of his jaw like he just didn't give a fuck about the world. Girls followed his every move as he stalked lazily down the full hallway, avoiding getting tossed and bumped around despite his small stature. Guys would randomly come up to him, clap him on the back, and divulge sweet little stories about what girls they had fucked last night, or where the next good party was, so Frank could be sure and get himself some ass over the weekend. He would just grin politely at them and respond with a 'hell yeah' or something to that affect to pacify them, despite the fact that he could care less about slutty girls. He did like boys after all.

On days like these, nothing seemed to really bother him. He didn't mind the loud pep rally they had first period, even though it gave him a migrane and he had to go to the nurse. The homework from second period was no big deal either, so he was in a pretty decent mood for those two brief hours.

Mikey saw the way all those girls would stare at Frank, and venom started to course through his body, swirling its way around his veins in a pretty jade green mist. A normal person would think that he was jealous of Frank's popularity. A normal person would be dead wrong. Frank was his--in Mikey's mind, at least--and he did not appreciate it when he caught people checking him out. Only he was allowed to do that. But Frank was beautiful and on display for the world to admire. It would be criminal to cover up his beauty.

Frank stopped at Mikey's locker with a cocky grin on his face and his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head. He'd just been asked out by two very pretty girls--that he, of course, rejected, saying only that he liked someone else and apologizing politely--so of course he's cocky. And seeing Mikey just made him happier, so he wrapped his arms around Mikey's shoulders and pressed his nose into Mikey's cheek, breathing out deeply as he did so and laughing when some of his face powder scattered into the air. He loved this time of day, the ten minute break right after second period when he could find Mikey and do this. The nose thing had became routine, his sign of affection for Mikey that wasn't too obvious. He never did this with anyone else, not even Bob. But he could actually kiss Bob if he wanted to. He didn't dare full out kiss Mikey. He could sneak small kisses--kisses that got him through the day, pressed lightly to his collar or his hair, anywhere that he wouldn't feel. It made him feel guilty, stealing kisses he didn't think Mikey would want, but he couldn't help himself. Mikey was his world and any little act of pure affection made his stomach knot up and cause him pain in the sweetest way possible. It felt sort of like waiting for something amazing. The waiting is agony, but you know that it will come eventually and that makes it all worth it. But Frank didn't know whether this would end up as a happy love story, and he didn't worry to much about it any more. Living through it, just having Mikey this close was his something amazing, and he didn't even have to wait.

Mikey took his breath away. When he thought about how sweet and cuddly they had been last week when Mikey had fallen asleep--and he thought about it alot, he fucking dreamed about how pretty Mikey looked all fucked up, curled up in Frank's arms--he got the worst shit-eating grin and could not speak.

Yesterday, he had been arguing with some friends about whether Back in Black started with an E chord or an A chord, and somehow one of his buddies mentioned Anberlin out of fucking nowhere, really nowhere because AC/DC had nothing to do with Anberlin, they were polar opposites on the music scale, and it made him think of their song. Well, his song to Mikey, which was The Unwinding Cable Car, and his throat locked up. He couldn't speak for the rest of the conversation. Man, he has it so bad for his friend.

"Hi, Mikey. How was your day so far?" Frank asked brightly. He looped his arm around Mikey's. Well, tried to until Mikey let his arm hang limp at his side and it was obvious he didn't want Frank to glomp all over him.

Frank pouted sadly, not understanding what he did wrong. Mikey wasn't getting anti-social again, was he? Frank's shoulders slumped dejectedly and he cocked his head to the side, looking up for an explanation. He felt stupid, he knew that if Mikey didn't want to touch him, it should be fine. The overbearing nature he'd pushed all his other friends away with came shining out of him, and he wanted to shut it out and let Mikey breathe, but it was he was so worried about losing Mikey that it was nearly impossible. It stung like little bees all over his skin that Mikey rejected him.

Mikey saw Frank's hurt expression. He wanted to make it better, he really did! He wanted to walk through the hallways linked arm-in-arm with Frank and bumping hips as they went, not caring about the little stares they would get and the whispers that made the news travel. Frankie, the hot kid who could get away with wearing sunglasses inside, was friends with the goth kid!

Of course, they should know that by now, with all the times Frank hugged Mikey during the day, but Frank hugs everyone. They would think that he was just an uncharacteristically sweet guy being nice to the poor social outcast. But if they went around the school gripped onto each other like Frank seemed to want, people would talk shit about it. Strangers were always mistaking them for boyfriends, and Mikey didn't want the school thinking that.

"Uhm...Frank, I'm not feeling so well today, sorry. I might just go home," Mikey said, meaning every word. That rejected look that he put on Frank's face made bile rise up in his throat. He had no right to hurt Frank. To make things a little better he slipped a timid arm around Frank's shoulders and gave him a quick hug, their chests pressing together momentarily, pulling away before Frank could even think of responding. He was just so confused at Mikey's behavior today.

"Oh, okay, Mikey. I hope you start feeling better." But don't leave me here. Without Mikey, Frank was stuck alone at lunch, which he would probably spend worrying about Mikey until he blows a fuse in his brain and powers down like a robot. He was starting to think of himself and Mikey both as robots. It makes sense, right?

"Thanks, Frank. Um...see you later, I guess..." Mikey said, stepping away slowly, once again leaving Frank behind to mope over the loss of the only comfort he has anymore.

*

When Bob walked up to the solitary Frank at lunch, Frank was adamant in ignoring him. Sure, he was lonely and bored out of his mind watching the grass grow and he could feel the stinging of his tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, and god, he just needed someone to hold him and kiss him and promise that everything will get better, but Bob hurt Mikey and betrayed Frank's trust.

At first, Bob just sat next to Frank, noticing tears welling up in his eyes but remaining like a statue. He tilted his head back, directing his gaze up to the tree they were sitting under, giving Frank a few minutes to accept his presence. He knew he could get Frank to crawl back into his arms if he went about it the right way. He just needed a day when Mikey wasn't around and Frank was broken and vulnerable, in need of someone to pick up the pieces of his shattered little body when he realized how alone he was. When he finally realized that he'd given up everything for a boy that did not love him.

"Frank." Bob's voice, gentle and melodic and carrying with it the allure of safety and unabashed love, broke the stuffy silence between the two so that Frank craned his head to look where the voice came from. Of course he knew that Bob was sitting beside him, but he didn't really grasp the fact until now.

"Frank, are you okay?"

Frank shook his head. No, he wasn't fucking okay. Mikey was gone, and that's not okay. Mikey blew him off earlier--he knew that Mikey really wasn't sick--and that wasn't okay either. Sure, he fooled himself at the time that Mikey just wasn't feeling well, that he really did want to see him but he was a bit under the weather, but it was so easy to believe Mikey when he was so close, when he hugs Frank and lies. All Frank wants to do is believe him.

"C'mere, Frankie, sweetie," Bob cooed, opening his arms for Frank to fall into. Frank complied and sunk into Bob's hug, grateful to feel that love again. To hear those nice pet names that Bob had for him, the ones that made him believe it's possible for someone to love him. Bob's arms gripped tighter around Frank's body, gathering him up closer to his chest and pressing a kiss to his temple. Frank flinched at the touch of Bob's lips, looking up in wonder. Was it wrong to do this?

He didn't want to lead Bob on nor did he want to cheat on Mikey. In his mind, kissing another boy was cheating, even if he and Mikey weren't dating.

A few tears slipped down Frank's cheeks that he didn't bother wiping away, he just nuzzled his face into Bob's jacket to hide them. Bob combed his fingers through Frank's hair, massaging at his skull and making him whimper.

"Bob," Frank whispered, nudging his mouth closer to Bob's ear so he'd be able to hear his next few words. He was hesitant in speaking, worried that Bob would get angry with him after he said it. But Frank needed to let him know that nothing could happen between them. He needed to let Bob know that his heart belongs to Mikey, to do whatever he may with the precious, fragile organ.

"I love him, Bob. What do I do?"

Bob's breath caught in his throat. He should have seen this coming, right? I mean, Frank already said he didn't love Bob, so the next logical step was to fall in love with Mikey. Even if Mikey was a horrible little goth boy who was sucking all the life out of his perfect, adorable Frankie.

Why can't Frank see that Mikey is all wrong for him! He's not even gay! And he doesn't care about Frank. If he really cared he wouldn't run away like this, he would stay and help Frank like any decent friend would.

"I...um...I don't know, Frankie. I guess all you can do is hope that he loves you back." Even though we both know he doesn't. "But, Frankie, it's not the end of the world if he doesn't. You deserve someone better than him anyway. I mean, he's a complete assho-"

"Bob, please. Mikey's not an asshole, And I'm sorry that I love him, but I do. And I also know that he'll never love me back, but that's okay because he needs me," Frank said. As long as he loves Mikey and Mikey needs him, neither of them will be alone. Right?

*

"Gerard, what do I do?" Mikey cried desperately into the phone, flipping back on his bed with a sigh. His bed creaked unreassuringly with the weight being suddenly exerted on it, and Mikey wondered for a brief second what he would do if the whole thing completely collapsed right then and there.

He didn't even know why he'd called up his brother a few minutes ago, it's not like he was helping in the slightest bit. But Mikey decided it was because Gerard was the only one in the world he could talk to about this shit. Gerard has always been his psychiatrist when he didn't understand why the world worked the way it did. He had the whole 'life hates me' mentality firmly planted in his brain from where he'd grown up with a goth brother as the only influence in his life, but Gerard had lightened up considerably since going to school. It must be the town that does this to people.

But Mikey had no way of escaping it for another year, and even then, where was he going? Nowhere, because he already knew he couldn't leave. So he's sticking it out with the help from his all-knowing brother, in whom he'd just confided his biggest secret: he stared at Frank's hips whenever he could.

He figured that was the most he could say, because he didn't recognize the emotion 'like' yet. He was fond of Frank, and he thought Frank was beautiful with his good-natured Superman act, and he relayed these thoughts to Gerard as well, nonchalantly as if he were talking about a TV show that he liked. Frank was always on his mind now, his over-used brain constantly revolved around everything that Mikey liked about him. His naturally dark hair that didn't look nasty or crusty even with sweet-smelling gel in it, his cheeks, sunburned from staying outside all the time, that settled plumply over his too-genuine-to-be-fake grin that he would always give Mikey in the morning, the way one of his shoes always seemed to be untied, and everyday it would be the other shoe from the day before. When Frank would bend over to lace the offending shoe, Mikey would skim his eyes over Frank's back if he was wearing a shirt small enough to rise up far enough to reveal skin, to display the beautiful...Mikey had started to want to call it chartreuse instead of olive, despite his knowledge that chartreuse was a greenish-yellow, but it sounded more like Frank, so his chartreuse skin that looked like it belonged more on a roman god instead of a teenage boy.

He wanted it to stop...but he didn't.

It exhausted and confused him and made him want to break down so low no one would stoop down to save him from the depths of himself, but it also filled him with a completely knew feeling that he'd come to enjoy a little bit. It was his stomach knotting up in excitement when Monday rolled around, it was the grin stuck on his face when he made Frank giggle, it was the hugs. Once, not so long ago, he hated any kind of physical contact with humans--but not cats, cats were nice and didn't try to hurt him--but now all he wanted was to be smothered with Frankie.

"I don't know, Mikes, I-" Gerard's voice cut out and Mikey could hear him yelling at someone on the other end of the line.

"Sorry about that, bro. Ahem...so this means that you're...what? Gay? Bi?"

Mikey rolled his eyes at the bluntly shallow question.

"No, Gee, I don't like boys, I like a boy. Just one. Only him, and I wouldn't feel any differently if he was a girl. Gender isn't an issue with me." His thin hand trailed to the bedsheets, picking at the fabric lightly. He hadn't washed the bedsheets since Frank had stayed over, so when he wrapped himself up in his blankets in the middle of the night, he could still smell the lingering aroma of Axe that made him smile into his pillow and miss the warmth on the other side of the bed.

He smiled at the traces of black lipstick on his pillowcase that stuck there despite Frank's episode with the makeup remover. Those must have been made while they were tackling each other into the bed over whether Wonder Woman made a good superhero, or whether nerds just bought the issues to stare at her boobs.

Frank, ever the little optimist that he is, thought she made a good superhero. Mikey pointed out that her greatest weapon was a rope. Oh, and the cleavage to hide her cigarettes, since she didn't have pockets.

"So, Mikey...is he cute?" Gerard chirped. Mikey could tell without seeing him that he was smirking, running a hand through his dark hair, pleased at himself with annoying his little brother in his time of need. Mikey could just see him, leaning back into a big leather armchair with the weird little circled that traced the front of the armrest, a leg propped up on a coffee table in front of him that was littered with beer cans and empty Broncos packs, cause Gerard was a cheap bitch and couldn't afford Marlboro. His roommate, Mark, was probably somewhere in the background on his computer looking up anime porn, because from what little information Gerard had relayed about him, he was a complete geek. Of course, this was just Mikey's assumptions.

"Gerard! You idiot, I'm not even dignifying that with a response."

Okay, he lied.

"And yeah, he is," he muttered quietly. He blushed, bright pink color blooming on his cheeks because he'd already taken off his makeup today. The blood rushing to his head made him feel hot, and he regretted making the phone call in the first place. He tried to busy himself by messing with the knobs on his radio, his hands restless as they searched through the stations for a song to drown out his brother's laughter that rang through the reciever from the other end of the line.

Mikey decided that since Gerard already knew this much, it did him no good to keep it all in. After he found a complacent song he flopped back on his bed and sighed.

"He let me put makeup on him," Mikey said with a crooked little smile hung on his lips. Now, thinking back, he took pride in that because now he knew that normal boys didn't do that. He had assumed it was normal, since Gerard did it, and some of the boys--the ones who liked other boys and took them into the bathrooms during class--at his old school did it too. But no boy at Newark did it besides himself, and he learned it was because it meant you were gay, and that would get you beaten up. But he wasn't afraid of getting beaten up because it happened all the time. In fact, it had been happening less and less lately. The only person who bothered to intimidate Mikey was Bob, and it had nothing to do with the makeup. Maybe it was safe to un-goth himself.

The only problem was...he loved it now. It was part of him. Before all this started, he never made any kind of impression on anyone, he was a shadow flitting around the edges of life. Now, people definitely knew who he was, and Mikey loved that.

He loved the stuffy candles that sat on his vanity and made his room take on eerie corners and dips in the soft wash of light that hid in themselves demons and ghosts threatening to grasp out razor sharp claws and drag Mikey down to their depths.

He loved popping in an Otep CD and banging his head, thrashing around in his room and ramming into the walls, letting out all the rage that build up over the course of a day in one hour-long thrash.

He loved to see his face pale as bone and eyes rimmed with black that made him look like he never slept.

"Congratulations, Mikes. You can be a goth couple now...hold on Matt! Mikey, I have to go, Matt just super-glued his dick to the window. Love you, bye!"

The line clicked off before Mikey could respond. He rolled his eyes at the phone in his hands, still warm from his conversation with his brother that failed to give him any insight as what he should do.

"Thanks, Gerard..."

*

"Hey, we should, like, go get ice cream for lunch!" exclaimed Frank, bolting up from his comfortable spot nestled in the dip of Mikey's shoulder to glance at his other two friends. His eyebrows made exclamation marks in the middle of his face and his smooth grin was superior like he knew that his will shall be done. No one here could resist him and his cute pout.

Well, maybe Mikey. But he obviously doesn't care that much about Frank.

Bob was sitting on top of the monkey bars with his legs folded underneath one another in a way that looked quite uncomfortable, but neccessary if he insisted on sitting on metal poles without falling through the cracks and busting his ass. His thick arms were crossed over his chest in an obvious expression of distaste in Frank's spot on the jungle gym. His thoughts were constantly revolving around two mantras, playing in his head like the prayers they tried to teach him in church when he was little. The ones he was supposed to say before going to sleep at night.

I want to kill him and use his bloated corpse as a trophy....No, I need to leave him alone because it's not his fault Frank is in love with him, and at least Frankie is talking to me again...

Ray was hanging upside down off the side of the slide, his legs hooked at the knees over the yellow plastic and his signature 'fro dangling below him like an extra organ. The blood was slowly rushing to his head, turning his naturally dark cheeks a nice vibrant red, suitably complimenting his red Dracula shirt that proclaimed Everyone should visit Transylvania, it's a scream! It was a shirt his cousin brought back to him from Europe, where, yes, he did actually visit Dracula's castle.

Mikey was splayed out in the middle of the jungle gym, taking up the most space despite his petite stature. His arms and legs bent at awkward angles like a crushed spider laying helpless on the kitchen floor after the assault of a shoe, still twitching with pent-up life and dying slowly, slow enough to know all about its life in those brief moments of intense pain. Mikey's right arm was supporting his head from the rough and unsanitary floor of the jungle gym where little feet had tracked mud and probably shit and piss as well. His left had previously been at the middle of Frank's back, tracing lazy circles on the crests and troughs of his spine, but now it laid dejectedly at his side, twisting at one of the chains hanging off of his oversized pants.

After sizing up the other two, Frank turned his gaze softly down to Mikey, who was staring right back at him, who was the only one who actually drove, meaning the decision was wholly upon him. Frank poked out his bottom lip in an attempt to look sad while his eyes told differently. They said, Geez, Mikey is too pretty when he looks up at me like that. I wonder how no one else seems to see this.

But he didn't really want anyone to know that Mikey was beautiful, that he was so indescribably lost-looking, like a love-starved orphan wondering where her parents are even as she searched around the broken down rubble that used to be her house before the fire.

Frank's eyelids sank down for a moment, long enough to gain some composure after bearing witness to that stare that Mikey was giving him, the needy stare that he saw sometimes. The dark depths of space that radiated coldness, radiated the desire to be warm for once, to be normal like everyone else. Mikey didn't bother to hide it, perhaps he didn't know how desperate he looked. Either way, Frank wanted to overload him with buckets and buckets spilling and seeping love from the cracks that beg to collapse. He knew he had enough affection to sate Mikey if only he was given the chance to lower that dam that he built specifically to protect Mikey from his normal waterfall of emotions that he exposed to others.

Mikey twisted his mouth into a grin that Frank knew he was faking, knew it because he could see the tremble laying low, out of sight that no one seemed to be able to see, ever, and Frank wished they could see that, at least. He wished everyone could see that Mikey actually was human, believe it or not. He wasn't the stereotypical teenager who only thought the world and his parents hated him, who stayed out late with his friends and worked on killing off every single brain cell he had left, took kindness for granted and never dealt it back.

"Hmmm, how did I know that one was coming?" Mikey gave Frank a playful jab in the ribs with his elbow, and Frank was content enough to play along like he really was fine with Mikey putting his mask back on after all the attempts Frank had made to throw the thing away. He could fake too.

He giggled at the jab--he didn't even have to fake the laugh, Mikey was just too cute like this, even if it was make-believe--and nuzzled into Mikey's neck, pressing his cheek into the throbbing skin just below his jaw. He waited for the strumming of vocal chords deep in Mikey's throat to send him into a fit of happiness. But he knew he had to give a response before Mikey would say any more, that was just how it worked. Mikey didn't like to talk twice in a row unless he really had something important to say, but if it was that important he wouldn't have paused in the first place.

"Miiikey, I want iiice creammm!" Frank wailed, purposefully drawing out the 'i's' and sounding like a little kid because he knew that's how he normally got his way, pretending that he was just a kid who didn't care about the politics of the world because those were grown-up concerns. A kid who just wanted ice cream. And who wanted to fix his friend.

Mikey fake-smiled and shook his head disbelieveingly with a side-glance over at Frank.

"What are you, like, two?"

Frank let out a small growling noise--it was cute, Mikey thought, like a blood-thirsty lion cub--and narrowed his eyes, giving Mikey a small push. Mikey scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and turned his head away from Frank in mock-distain. He opted instead to roll over onto his side and turn his attention to Bob, who was glaring at him as well with eyes as cold as his own, sizing him up to see how much resistance he would have as a punching bag. (Probably none, since Mikey wasn't good for anything.)

It stopped bothering him that Bob hated him and wanted to kill him. Really, he wasn't too fond of Bob himself, and still didn't understand why this all happened. Why was Bob so pissy toward him, he didn't steal Frank. They were all out together now, so why did Bob still give him the mean looks?

He smirked at Bob, wondering just how much pain he would have to endure later if he decided to hug Frank right now. No, scratch that, he knew exactly what Bob would do. He would fucking twist Mikey's body around these bars until he broke, screaming and bleeding internally and probably externally, as well. Too bad, he really felt like curling his arms around Frankie and feeling him hug back like he always did. He needed a little reassurance that Frank still wanted to be his friend even though he has two other normal friends who weren't needy, over-analyzing pessimists.

Oh, fuck it.

Mikey rolled over again so his chest was pressed up against Frank's, feeling that was enough contact to satisfy him that Frank wasn't leaving him. As long as he could feel Frank's heartbeat, alerting him that yeah, a living, breathing human being is talking to him, not a corpse, not an imaginary friend that he sometimes saw when he was particularly lonely.

"Okay, Frank, where do you want to go? Sonic again?" Mikey asked, having an inkling that he was right. They always went to Sonic when Frank wanted ice cream. It was their place.

"No, uhmmm...." Frank contintued to mumble as he thought about where he wanted to go, because he sure as hell wasn't sharing the place he had so many good memories with the boy he loved with Bob and Ray. It would somehow be sacreligious.

"Hmmm. Hmm. Hm-"

"Frankie!"

Frank giggled and looked down sheepishly, his fringe of bangs sweeping across his button of a nose and succesively hiding his blush. Mikey was really a cutie when he's annoyed. Or when he's happy. Or asleep. Or awake. Basically, he is cute all the time, and on that note, Frank decided to pull Mikey into a tight hug, snuggling his face into his hair. He pulled Mikey as close as he could get him into his chest protectively because he noticed Bob's nasty look, and he just wanted to block all of that out for Mikey if he could.

"Sorry. I wanna go...I don't know where, let's just go."

*

Mikey watched in silent amusement, chin resting on one curled up fist, his bracelets falling down his skinny arm, as Frank filled his ice cream bowl with three different flavors of ice cream--chocolate, chocolate chip, and strawberry--topped off with a mixture of chocolate sauce, rainbow sprinkles, gummy worms, nuts (Mikey bit back a laugh), and about 12 cherries hanging precariously off the tower of sweets. He carried the overflowing slowly back to the table that he, Mikey, Bob, and Ray were sitting at. It looked a bit ridiculous from Mikey's view, since the ice cream was nearly as tall as Frank--it really was, the poor thing had to stretch his neck up to see over it--but he did make it back to the table with his treat in tact, sliding into the booth beside Mikey.

The ice cream was a work of art compared to the lackluster--no, they didn't even deserve a word as long as lackluster--plain ice creams that the others got. It was dips and swirls of rich dark chocolate dispersed with the vibrant red, blue, yellow, purple, and pink splatters of color that completely canceled out any aesthetic beauty of the bland frozen dairy products in Frank's friends' bowls. That is, if ice cream can possess beauty.

Frank, taking a second look at his masterpiece with blatant ravaging hunger, decided they could.

Mikey held back snickers as he watched his small friend stumble back to their table with the bowl clutched tightly, possessively, almost, in his arms. It was cute, really, and so like Frank to do. Mikey knew when they first stepped foot in this place and saw the bar with all the candies and sauces on display that Frank was going to try and give himself a sugar coma by drowning his poor ice cream in so much chocolate that a fat german boy couldn't dream of finishing it. (Bad stereotype!) In a way, when Mikey stepped back and saw he was completely right, he thought it was weird to know someone that well. Personalities were something he didn't understand so well in people, like he didn't understand Bob or Ray at all, or his teachers or parents or the guys at school who looked at him funny when he walked into the boy's bathroom to re-apply his eyeliner, but he understood Frank a little bit. He knew enough to know when Frank was joking about something, because that was when he would smile cheesily at his own joke and sometimes giggle, and he knew when Frank was being serious because he looked right at Mikey--he would probably look Mikey in the eyes, but Mikey couldn't look people in the eyes, he always kept his head hung low when he was talking to anyone--and he knew that Frank was a nice guy that didn't want to hurt him. So he could piece together what he knew and automatically be able to tell what Frank wanted from the ice cream bar. When Mikey thought about all of this, he realized he knew more about Frank than anyone else in the world besides himself. And he also realized that it made him smile.

As Frank slid into the seat beside Mikey, they both subconsiously moved closer to the middle so their thighs were touching and their shoulders bumped against each other, and neither bothered to move away as their elbows hit each other when Frank moved to pick up his spoon.

"Wow, Frankie, are you planning on eating that whole thing by yourself?" Ray asked, fully believing that Frank could do it if he put his mind to it. But he was hoping that he wouldn't, because eating all of that would make him sick, and then he would have to deal with Bob and Mikey fighting over who got to cuddle Frank better.

Frank shook his head, glancing up at Mikey with a broad, mischevious smile on his lips. "Nope, I have every intention of making Mikey help me."

"S'cuse me?" Mikey asked through the plastic spoon in his mouth, arching a eyebrow in disbelief at Frank. He was perfectly content with his small bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. But he knew Frank didn't like green ice cream, having to sit through Frank's rant about orange and green ice creams one day as he called them 'tacky, pastel frauds of what real ice cream should be'. Ice cream was like a political issue with him, it was that important.

"Frank, there is no way I can eat my ice cream and help you with that one without me puking up all of my intestines and dying on this nice shiny table that I'm sure the unfortunate waitresses will have to clean my dead body off of." He punctuated his sentence by stabbing his utensil into his ice cream pointedly.

"Oh. Okay then." Frank reached out and grabbed Mikey's bowl of icky brown and green ice cream by the side, careful not to get any of the poisonous gook on his fingers. He put it under the table on his lap despite the uncomfortable coldness seeping down near his crotch, that way he won no matter what. Mikey had the choice to either give in and let Frank feed him, or grab the ice cream off of Frank's lap. (seductive eye wiggle).

"There, problem solved, Mikey," Frank chirped brightly, grinning up at Mikey like a madman on dope. He knew he'd won because Mikey wasn't going to go grabbing at things near Frank's crotch. Or maybe he would and give Frank a little thrill.

Mikey smirked broadly, figuring that Frank's dick was freezing right now and all he had to do was wait until Frank couldn't take it anymore. The smile slowly slipped from his face as he came to the realization that he was, in fact, thinking about Frank's dick, and that disturbed him to no end. That was going a little too far. He shook his head to rid his thoughts. Sadly for him, it didn't work, and he ended up just looking like a weirdo shaking his head about nothing. When he looked back up he nearly got his eye jabbed out by Frank's ice cream-covered spoon.

"Well Mikey?" Frank raised an eyebrow expectantly. Maybe if he fed Mikey enough chocolate, he would get hyper and un-moody.

Mikey rolled his eyes melo-dramatically as he eyed the ice cream with distain. He didn't want chocolate ice cream, he liked the minty kind, but he didn't really have a choice, Frank looked too pleased with himself for Mikey to refuse. Mikey stuck out his tongue and hesitantly flicked it to the ice cream, taking a test lick first before fully opening his mouth and allowing Frank to feed him. He didn't want to be force fed again, that was a horrible experience.

Bob made an obnoxious choking sound as he watched the two boys acting so obviously gay that it was embarassing. Feeding each other? That wasn't too over-the-top? Even couples didn't subject others to watch that kind of blatant, sickening show of affection, and he sure as hell didn't want to be forced to watch this shit by those two. It was disgusting and made the stomach acid churn and boil up in his esophagus.

Frank blocked out any and all wretching sounds made by Bob, instead shifting his focus constantly from Mikey to the ice cream still in his lap until he gave in and set it back on the table well out of Mikey's reach. Mikey, on the other hand, was not amused by Bob's bodily sounds, and made a snippy remark through the spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

"What's wrong Bob, choking on a dick?"

Bob scowled and furrowed his eyebrows in anger, barely able to believe that Mikey had the guts. But he'd been doing a lot of things lately that Bob didn't expect. "Excuse me, you little fucker?"

Mikey smirked while Ray and Frank looked on with dread. "You heard what I said." He was done with tip-toeing around Bob, having to think about what things he could and couldn't do or say, and he was even looking forward to the confrontation that would no doubt happen later on today when Frank and Ray weren't around. He knew damn well that he was no match for Bob, their first fight was just a fluke, but maybe Frank would take care of him again.

Ray and Frank exchanged looks. They knew to grab the boys if they decided to lunge over the table and rip each other's throats out. Frank wrapped his hand around Mikey's arm just in case that awful scenario did happen. Everyone at the table--everyone in the world, probably--could see that Bob could beat Mikey up, and Frank wasn't going to let that happen again. Sure, Mikey was kind of asking for it with the superior attitude and smirky remarks, but Frank believed vehemently that Bob started it. Why did Bob even agree to come with them, he knew that Frank was going to fawn over Mikey the whole time!

Mikey was pissed, this whole thing was Bob's fault and he knew it! He was just being immature with those retarded little vomiting sounds he was making. He was just jealous for no fucking reason. Mikey and Frank weren't dating, how many times does he have to say it? It already ate at him that they were never going to be a couple, never able to kiss each other goodbye in the school hallway when the breaks were up and they had to go to class like he saw the other couples do. They all looked so happy and in love--well, teenage love, which amounts to about a month of intense lust filled with decorations on the bathroom stalls and on the sides of their homework that they are in love forever. But if Mikey just blocked out the little fact that in high school love doesn't exist, he was jealous of it. He almost wanted that feeling with Frank, but his pessimistic attitude refused to let him even imagine that it could ever happen. He wouldn't let his hopes up just to be dashed down to leave him raw and emotional. He's spend years building walls for just this sort of thing, just so he won't have to feel the pain that is the subject of so many cheesy songs, poems, books, and movies. Damn, love seems to be at the center of everything entertaining, doesn't it? But he didn't want to be hurt like he knew it would, he didn't want to take the chance.

Ray sat tensely in his seat beside Bob, feeling the insane madness radiating off of every fiber in his rage-filled friend's body. He shrank back a bit in his seat and glanced over to the fretful Frank. They locked eyes and a promise to protect Mikey passed between them. And it wasn't just because Frank wanted him to, he really liked Mikey now. He was just a change of scenery, being the only goth kid in school, and Ray liked that. He also liked how much he and Mikey had in common, like their love for the original Game Boy, or the refusal to have normal hair, but especially their tastes in music. And--such a deep dark secret that he will never divulge because it shocks the hell out of himself and left him confused for three whole days and nights without sleep--Mikey was...hot when he was pissed. Hm, just like that this whole pitiful situation turned into a love square. Just peachy. Strange how things just happen like that.

Oh gawd, poor little Mikey, I made fun of him, I'm sure he's just heartbroken[//], Bob thought bitterly as he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. He was grinding his teeth down to the gum and his jaw was starting to ache. He wanted to take his plastic spoon and scoop Mikey's eye right out of his head in one sickening, blood spurting pop, but he was scared shitless of what Frank would do. He night not look like much, but Bob knew that, if provoked, Frank will end him. And it was fucking terrifying to see Frank that angry. He'd only seen it once, and that single outburst caused him to regard Frank with the upmost reverence from then on. So Bob wasn't going to chance it by killing the person that Frank was supposedly in love with. That was...a death sentence. But, he must say, Mikey has been the only person in existence that Bob had seriously considered killing. Sure, everyone says there is someone they would like to kill if the world suddenly dropped all consequences and nothing bad would happen to them, but Bob was almost willing to go through with killing Mikey and burying him in his backyard just to get the voices to stop. He was tired of telling himself that he couldn't do it, when every other fiber in his body screamed that no one would ever know if he was just really clever about it, that life wasn't how it was in the movies and they can't really find out that it was him, no one would even give a shit that Mikey was dead other than Frank.

Frank scooted tentatively in his seat closer to Mikey, curling both of his arms around one of Mikey's slowly and resting his chin on his shoulder, nosing into the familiar smell of cologne and makeup. He tilted his face up a bit, close to Mikey's ear, tucking a few stray strands of black hair as he did.

"Mikey, please..."

Mikey tore his stare from Bob to look down at Frank, at his pained expression, and felt like an ass. He leaned in to smush his nose against Frank's, their universal sign of affection. He'd never initiated it before, but he felt he needed to do it now. The last thing he wanted was for Frank to be unhappy. He took his free hand (the other one was being hugged in a death grip) and ran his fingers down the side of Frank's face, lovingly brushing the bangs out of his eyes as they ghosted across his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Frank." His breath, hot and muggy and sugary floated between the two in their too-close positions. Hearts thrashed against abused rib cages as neither moved, the only movement made by Mikey as he sucked his lip into his mouth nervously, tonguing a sore he had on the inside ridge that tasted of bloody copper.

Lowly, under his breath, Bob muttered, "Not dating, my goddamn ass," accompanied by the silent crash of his hopes drowned out by the buzz of flourescent lights and the arguments of two little boys at the ice cream bar fighting over who got to go first. Suddenly, the black and white checkered floor seemed tacky and the white wash walls were cold and insensitive, not at all a place he wanted to be.

He got a jab in the stomach from Ray, who promptly shushed him. Ray wasn't going to let him ruin Mikey and Frank's moment. And it was a moment, no matter how vehemently they may deny it later when it is brought up by Bob. Two people can't look at each other like the way they were--everyone knows that look, the 'you belong to me and I belong to you' look--without having a moment, which happened to be terribly inappropriate at this time and place in front of the people they were sitting across from. Ray expected a passionate kiss, he really did. He thought they would just go poof and turn into a couple. But no such thing happened, sadly. When will they learn?