FicWad

Ray didn't want to notice it--the look of pain that crossed Mikey's face when he adjusted himself in his desk during math, the way he flinched when someone touched him even if it was an accident, Bob's smug look when he started to notice it as well. Four fucking weeks of this, Ray would watch Bob drag a lethargic Mikey into the bathroom, or, once, out in the parking lot and do...whatever. While Ray just stood there doing fucking nothing when he should have been chasing after Bob and ripping him limb from limb.

Four weeks of waking up with his heart pounding loudly in the silence of his room and the ghosts of Mikey's cries for help ringing in his ears, bleeding into his brain and replaying themselves over and over. The CD is broken, and it skips until he's forced to turn it off and contemplate throwing the CD out.

It was starting to take a toll on his everyday life, he'd nod off during class and have someone hitting him awake because it's a different period and he's in their seat. Even Frank was asking about the dark circles under his eyes. It was getting bad. He couldn't...wouldn't do anything for Mikey, the poor kid who really didn't do anything, maybe one of the only people left in America who truly didn't deserve what he was getting. If life was a comic book--like the ones that he and Mikey liked to nerd out over during 1st period--some spandex-clad muscle man with bad hair and a strong chin would swoop in, pow Bob, and set everything right. Clean Mikey up, pretty him up, get rid of the chains and eyeliner and make everyone love him as the poor victim that he is, The Hurricane of gothy, skinny white teenagers.

Today, when Ray looked up from the tiled floor to see Bob with an arm slung around Mikey's drooped shoulders, traditional user-smile set in place, leading him into the bathroom--holding the fucking door open and pushing him inside--Ray followed without a plan of action, without knowing what to expect to see. What if it was bad, like scarring bad, like rape bad? Cliche bad, with Mikey's chest pressed up against the dirty wall painted in grime and piss with his pants pulled down around his knobbly knees, crying for some kind of mercy that he knew deep down in his heart will never come because there has to be a sacrifice for mankind to move on in its advances as a culture.

Without noticing it, Ray had wasted a whole minute of Mikey's time waiting with his hand pressed up to the door, not moving toward the doorknob, just hoping he wouldn't have to walk in on something sick.

Somehow he found his voice from where it had hidden from reality, sudden inspiration striking him, and pushed open the door, loudly yelling, 'teacher coming' and ducking back when the door swung open and Bob bolted out. Ray wasn't given a second glance, remaining the shadow he was, as he slipped into the bathroom. All his mental preparation he built up as he stood outside and let this happen wasn't enough for this. He expected worse, yeah, but somehow this brought tears to his eyes, just a bit. Mikey doesn't deserve to bleed like that.

His head lolled back on his shoulder, hitting the wall behind him, eyes closed tight, blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers as his hand gripped at a a spot on his hip. When he saw Ray--Bob's friend--he sunk to the floor in a last result and curled into himself, bringing his knees up to his chest and crossing his arms over them.

Ray had a moment of confusion, wondering why Mikey was trying to hide from him, but then he realized--oh. He gasped quietly.

"Mikey, relax, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?" he spat out. His eyes were just black soot rings in his face, and he lifted them to meet Ray's, blinking away tears and letting them run down his cheeks shamelessly, pooling white and murky at the end of his jaws. Ray held his gaze until he felt Mikey probing around in his brain. He looked down.

"You're bleeding."

"No shit."

Ray rolled his eyes. He wasn't bothered by the bitchy attitude, he got used to it from following Bob around all the time. Instead he busied himself grabbing some of the paper towels out of their dispenser, running them under cold water and wringing out the excess. He went over to the little corner Mikey had holed himself up in, and held out his hand. Mikey stared at it. "Mikey, get up, you need to get cleaned up."

He only got a grunt in response so he hooked an arm under Mikey's and pulled him up, letting him lean his weight on the wall. He really was too light.

Mikey had tried to squirm away when Ray lifted up his shirt, shyness and modesty taking a hold of his senses and overpowering the fact that he knew he needed to get cleaned up before Frank saw him like this. He batted Ray's hands away weakly when his writhing didn't help, then gave up and sat back. When Mikey's body went limp, Ray raised his shirt. Mikey gasped at the sudden blast of air on his cuts and bruises. Ray just gasped.

"Mikey...how did Bob do this?" Ray asked, pressing the paper towel to the biggest cut. It was on his hip, and the bone was showing white and yellow through the layers of blood and skin. He worried about pushing down too hard on the cut and hurting Mikey, but he didn't know any better way to stop the blood.

Mikey sniffed and looked anywhere other than down at his own exposed stomach. His whole body hurt with an unattached ache now instead of each individual cut hurting, and he didn't know if that was good or bad. He was torn between wanting Frank here so bad he wanted to start crying again and never wanting Frank to see him like this.

"Bob took a piece of the mirror and cut me with it." Mikey nodded over to the mirror hanging over the sink that had a chunk missing from the corner.

"Oh Mikey..." Ray curled his free hand around Mikey's waist and pulled him a little bit closer, thinking that if he could just kidnap Mikey and take him somewhere that he could protect him from all of this and they would be able to read comics all day and discuss everything. "How long has this been going on?" Ray asked, reading the timeline of bruises and scars.

"...about as long as I've been dating Frank."

"Have you told Frank?"

"No! And don't let him know, okay?"

Ray stopped all movement, just taking a minute to wonder about Mikey. If Mikey would tell Frank about this, his pain would be over. Frank would kill Bob if he knew about this.

"And, and you have to promise not to tell him, okay?" Mikey gripped Ray's shoulder for emphasis, hand shaking. Ray was the only person other than Frank that he'd ever willingly touched at this school.

"Yeah, okay."

Mikey knew Ray didn't understand. No one ever understands him. "Ray, Frank likes to hang out with Bob. If he finds out, he'll hate Bob and all he'll have is me. I can't make him happy, and he won't want me anymore."

Ray bit his lip and nodded, not knowing how to respond to that. He tightened his grip on Mikey when the boy's body seemed to finally give out all the way. He slumped against the wall, knees turning into a mass of jumbled nerves encased in bone. Ray was afraid the kid was going to pass out, so he bent down to hook his arms underneath Mikey's knees, his other arm supporting his back, and stood up straight, cradling the wiry boy in his arms.

"What're you doing?" Mikey sputtered out groggily as his free arm wrapped around Ray's shoulder, tangling his fingers in the curly hair at the nape of his neck. The buzzing lights shone too brightly when Ray carefully brushed the hair out of Mikey's eyes so he tucked his face in Ray's sturdy shoulder and waited for his head to stop spinning.

"I'm taking you to the nurse, Mikey." Obviously, you're about to bleed to death.

Ray could already feel Mikey's blood seeping warm and sick through the flood gates of their combined shirts and jackets, felt it already beginning to dry on his skin. He hitched Mikey just a bit higher in his arms, re-planting his feet for balance, waiting for Mikey to object to his plans. To not allow others to see him in this pain. Instead of any objections or useless squirming, Mikey nodded weakly into Ray's hair and muttered, faint as a whisper, " Why are you helping me?"

Ray breathed out loudly and looked to the ceiling for some kind of answer other than 'you're really really hot'. Not only would that freak Mikey out, but the repercussions (mainly the ones involving Frank) could be painful.

Mikey watched as Ray struggled to grasp onto something. Finally, "You're my friend. I don't want you to bleed out in the fucking bathroom, Mikey."

*

The nurse told him that he really needed to go to the hospital and get stitches. School nurses didn't have the technical basic shit like that, they had Advil, ice packs, band-aids, and a place to sit, and in the event of something serious she wasn't really able to do anything but watch a teenage kid die. But she had enough experience to know when a cut was serious, and the one she was looking at was so deep she could pick out the epidermal layers. Nothing about the lanky boy screamed healthy, he looked on the brink of death in her opinion, but he adamantly refused to go to the hospital when the other, frizzy-haired boy suggested it for a third time.

Ray let his face disappear in his hands for a moment, shaking off the urge to tie Mikey up and drag him to the fucking hospital. "Please,Mikey, it could get infected--"

"Hospitals are scary! And it won't get infected, I'll put neosporin on it!" Mikey interjected, crossing his arms over his chest. The dull pounding ache in his stomach was being ignored on his part, instead he decided to poke at one of his own brown bruises just above the sleeve of his shirt. Bob always made sure to grab him and mark him in places no one could see. It was the only thing Bob had done right.

"Ugh, Mikey Way, I swear to God if you die from a goddamn infection that I'll kill you."

Mikey smiled for the first time since lunch. "You think I'll rise from the dead too?"

Ray's eyes bugged out of his head as he took a playful swing at Mikey. "You fucking dork."

"Says the boy with the Batman shoelaces."

Ray's eyebrows raised at the rebuttal. God, it was too easy to fall in love with that cheesy superior grin.

"Shuddup. But no, seriously, I'll kill you, like, with an axe or a chainsaw--"

"No, no, do it with a sledgehammer. That's the way to fucken go, I wanna...fucking crunch when I'm killed, okay Toro?"

"...okay, Way."

The smile was infectious, really.

*

In Ray's defense, he waited a whole agonizing day before breaking his promise to Mikey. He was sitting with Frank in their third period class--psychology, what great fun--and it was just a sign from...well, Ray didn't know whether to really associate it with spirituality, because he didn't think that God liked gay boys, but it was a definite sign. Their teacher--Mr. Randall--took his place at the podium and started to preach. That's a more appropriate term, preacher, because he believed so much in his own words, and he had the power to stir up a class full of fuckers who really didn't care. He wanted to help the world, just like Frank, and Ray really liked this class because he could surround himself with people who wanted to make a difference and it made him feel a little better about how the world was going to shit.

Today's topic in class, written in chalk on the board in all capital letters for added effect, was ABUSE. Ray groaned.

Mr. Randall first talked about spousal abuse. Ray didn't understand why he would choose that subject for a group of teenagers who weren't married, but it gave him a little hope that he would make it through the topic without betraying Mikey's trust. He knew it was a big deal that Mikey didn't just tell him to fuck off and not let him help, and he didn't want Mikey to think it was a mistake trusting him, but it wasn't right to just sit on the sidelines and watch as Mikey continues to get hurt. He'd done too much of that lately and it was time to save Mikey. He thought, since Mikey was a big part of his world--gosh, how pathetic did that sound?--that if he saved Mikey, it's equivalent to the way Frank and Mr. Randall want to save the word.

Ray tapped nervously on his desk, getting a few pokes from Frank to quit it and listen to the fucking sermon so he didn't have to repeat this class again, so he stopped. He was waiting for Mr. Randall to get to teenage abuse, anything close enough to the situation he was in, then Mr. Randall said it: If someone you know is getting abused, tell someone.

Leaning over, Ray tapped Frank on the shoulder hesitantly. Frank, enraptured with Mr. Randall's rant, held up a finger until he finished the sentence, then turned to Ray, raising his eyebrows.

Where to begin...

"Frankie?" He didn't want to just blurt it out, Bob's been hurting Mikey. He wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't have Frank jumping out of his seat and hunting Bob down in the middle of class. "Er, have...do you ever check Mikey for bruises?"

*

Frank cradled his fist as he walked to his fifth period class, running his fingers tentatively over red chapped knuckles delicately lined with veins. He figured, after what Ray had told him, that the whole day was going to be utter shit until Ms. Jameson said they could finally have partners in class. He wasted no time in jumping out of his seat and sliding into the desk next to Mikey, scooting the chair over until their desks touched.

"Miikey!" He was close to gushing as he grinned. Mikey grinned back until he saw Frank's hand and immediately reached out to curl his fingers around Frank's wrist and lift it up to investigate. He ran his finger over the red marks softly, afraid of hurting Frank's hand even more but wanting to touch him and make sure he was okay.

"Hey, what happened to your hand?"

Frank shifted a little in his seat but didn't pull away from the warm grasp, smiling up at Mikey guiltily. Mikey was fucking worried about him! About a little red mark on his hand! And Frank couldn't even pay close enough attention to Mikey to notice if he was getting beaten up. "Er, a wall."

"And what did the wall do to you? Mikey asked as he raised Frank's hand to his mouth so he could press light pink, chapped lips to his knuckles.

"Mmmm." Frank turned to mush at the first touch of Mikey's lips anywhere on his skin, so the best he could muster up was a, "It was lookin' at me funny," through his mushy smile. His heart was getting mashed up in his chest as far as he could tell, and it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

Mikey nodded, satisfied though he wondered why Frank really punched a wall, and let Frank's hand slip from his own, instead picking up a pencil and turning to page 306 like the teacher instructed. Frank wasn't surprised that Mikey was actually focusing on the work, scribbling down chicken-scratch answers on his paper that was steadily becoming overrun with proof tables and fraction signs. He'd poke his tongue out in frustration or quietly hum a Smashing Pumpkins song under his breath while he worked, so Frank never got bored while he sat there and watched and listened. A few times he had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck Mikey's hair behind his ear or leaning over and kissing his cheek because he knew Mikey didn't like to be bothered when he was working.

"It's amazing how you know all that, baby," Frank supplied when, after roughly 20 minutes, Mikey put his pencil down and nodded at his own work.

"Nah, it's just nerdy," Mikey retorted, pushing the paper over to Frank's desk so he could copy. No one else in the class was even half way done, and he didn't really understand why it took everyone else so long to finish 30 questions. It made him feel like he was too smart, even less human than he already felt, but it gave him loads of time to talk to Frank.

"No, shut up, it's not nerdy just because you're not a loser like the rest of us."

Mikey wanted to retaliate and hear Frank call him even more nice things, but he knew that if he did it would sound like he was fishing for compliments. He just settled for nodding. Frank 'psh' ed out the side of his mouth and raised both of his arms out in the air to stretch. "Mikey Way, you give in too easily."

"Oh, well that explains why I'm with you."

Frank blinked and his mouth dropped open, completely surprised and mildly hurt at the come back. "Ow, my self esteem."

Mikey grinned and nudged Frank's shoulder with his own. He already wished he hadn't said it because it was the furthest thing from the truth and it made Frank frown. "You know I'm kidding, Frank."

He giggled and nudged back. "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to create a dramatic moment. We never have those." He leaned over to peck Mikey's jaw, finally, after wanting to for the whole class.

Ms. Jameson's shaky voice broke through the static that had washed over the classroom as everyone was chatting with their partners. "Mr. Iero, Mr. Way, no kissing in class." Mikey turned his head to glare up at her and she would have dropped everything in her hands if she had been holding anything. Not only did she interrupt them, but she also brought it to everyone's attention that they were kissing. All the buzzing stopped and everyone seemed to be staring at the two boys.

Mikey groaned inwardly, feeling his face get hot and wanting to slink back into the shadows or maybe into the very desk he was sitting in and morph into the grainy wood. Being called out in the middle of class was just the worst.

Frank was just pissed that she interrupted them. How dare she, when he and Mikey are the only students in the whole class who have passed all of her tests this semester? He was pretty sure that if it was any other couple that she would turn a blind eye to them, but she didn't like Mikey, and that put her on Frank's hit list. Along with Bob and Wendy. Oh, and his history teacher. He raised his hand.

"Yes, Frank?" Ms. Jameson asked, her voice steadily climbing back to a safe distance from where it had been catapulted into the stratosphere by Mikey's glowering eyes. He looked like fucking death, and, when she wasn't lying to herself, she remembered the nightmares she had about him while she stood at the front of the class each day and tried to breathe. He was a plague on her classroom, a sign that she should have never started teaching because teachers are the most hated people in the world, and, oh God, the shootings...

"Um, can we go to the bathroom?"

"Both of you?"

"Yeah. Come on, we're both done with the work," he whimpered, leaning forward in his seat a little bit. He heard her sigh, the sign that she was ready to give up and damn her students to a mediocre, math-less future.

"Why should I let you?" The question just slipped out without a chance for her to go over the possible answers.

Frank cleared his throat, leaned closer until the back legs of his desk were suspended in air and he was close to falling on his face. The promised threat of a huge secret spilled out from his impish grin, accompanied by a little giggle. "I have a boner," he whispered across the room.

Mikey's head dropped to the desk with a dead thud and his shoulders began to shake as he tried to suppress giggles. Frank tilted back in his seat until it was on the ground and looked over at Mikey in wonder.

"You're laughing at me!" He tried to pout, but found it really impossible to look anything other than delighted when Mikey laughed. Especially if he was laughing in public. Mikey lifted his head and took off his glasses to swipe a finger at his eyes. He was still torn between being mortified and amused, but settled for the latter when he looked up at their red-faced teacher.

"Ugh, fine, go," she relented, pointing to the door with one hand and covering her face with the other.

Frank flashed an award-winning smile as he pulled Mikey out of the room behind him, leaving behind yells that were a mixture of obscene and congratulatory from their classmates. Once the door was closed and they were out in the sanctity of the empty halls, Frank let his arm drop and turned around to look at Mikey, setting his gaze on any patch of skin that was not covered by baggy black pants or a black coat. He was searching for a purple mark, red, something to prove that Ray wasn't lying. Mikey shifted nervously under the scrutiny, knitting his eyebrows together and wondering why Frank was looking at him like that. Did he do something wrong? Is Frank mad at him for laughing?

"F-Frank?" Fuck, he stuttered.

Frank snapped his eyes up to Mikey's face and came back to his senses. Mikey must have been so uncomfortable with Frank staring at him like that. "Sorry Mikey. Come on, we'll go to the bathroom." Frank held out his hand and pulled Mikey down the empty hallway to the boy's bathroom.

*

The lump in Mikey's throat went away as he relaxed into the familiar settings of the bathroom. Sure, it was the place where he was beaten up every day, but that didn't taint it. He met Frank here. He went here when he needed to mellow out in the middle of the day and smoke, or sometimes just sit alone and hum to himself. The broken mirror and little spot of dried blood on the floor didn't bother him. That shit was yesterday's feelings, and right now he was with Frank, and Frank wasn't going to hurt him. He sank into Frank's awaiting arms, curling his fingers into the fabric of Frank's shirt and laying his head on his shoulder. He nosed into Frank's neck and smiled.

"Hi," he said, not finding the words to describe how amazing it was to cling onto someone and not have a panic attack.

"Hi." Frank let one of his hands rest at Mikey's hip as the other one petted at Mikey's hair, because he knew he liked it. Massaging at the light roots of his hair and threading carefully through his black strands and then starting all over again. He didn't know what to say first. How was he supposed to go into this? Just ask, 'has Bob been beating you up'? No, because he knew that Mikey would lie and he would know that Ray broke his promise. He needed to see the marks, to bask in the horror and let it wash over him and give him the added rage to go through with hurting his ex-best friend. Maybe this wasn't even the right time to bring it up.

He twisted his head to catch Mikey's mouth with his own, to peck lightly at his lips when he wasn't getting much of a response. He didn't expect to really, because he knew where Mikey stood on the issue of kissing--slobbery, weird, no tongue. The hand on Mikey's hip moved up, ghosting his arm and shoulder to come to rest on his cheek. Frank pulled back to see Mikey's face. Wonderful, petal pink lips were swollen and plump, his eyes half closed and peeking out from under a fringe of dark lashes behind the glare of his glasses.

"Mikey, you're too pretty," Frank murmured before closing in and crashing his lips to Mikey's once again. He almost squeaked in surprise when he felt Mikey's lips moving against his own in an unskilled, sloppy-but-nice way. It was surreal; Mikey actually kissing him. God.

Mikey closed his eyes and sighed slowly into the kiss, letting himself enjoy the foreign feeling of Frank's lips sliding against his own and the warm hand on his cheek, holding him in place so he didn't have to worry about messing up too much. Kissing wasn't nearly as bad as he was afraid it would be. He didn't like this way as much as the simple little pecks, but this was good too. He kept a steady pace as he relaxed into the kiss, moving his mouth when Frank did, trailing after his movements in three second intervals so that they didn't clash or anything.

He thought he was doing well until he felt Frank's tongue sliding past his lips. He didn't understand why people would like to have someone else's tongue in their mouth, but he knew that Wendy liked it, and Frank did too. And if Frank wanted it, it couldn't be bad, so he let his mouth fall open, gripping Frank tighter.

While Frank kept Mikey busy with his mouth, his hand was disentangling itself from Mikey's hair and sliding down his chest to land at his hip. He started to make little circles on the bone with his thumb, then, slowly, inch the shirt up just a little. Maybe he could get it high enough to see bruises without Mikey knowing, and then just conversationally ask about them. Like a good boyfriend would.

At the first touch of skin on skin, Mikey gasped and backed away, gaping wide-eyed down at Frank, the skin on his hip burning in finger-shaped marks.

"Frank," he muttered fretfully, tugging his shirt back down.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked in smooth honey-dulcent tones, curling his arms around Mikey and pulling him back in his embrace. He felt bad for making Mikey so uncomfortable, but he needed to see the bruises.

Mikey crossed his arms in front of his chest, sandwiched between their bodies, and shook his head. "Nothing, just don't do that," he mumbled, black locks spilling down his face and encasing his expression in darkness. He slumped against the wall and sighed, feeling just a little bit better out of Frank's arms, as much as he hated to admit it. He loved when Frank held him, but this was scaring him.

Frank frowned and reached out to gather Mikey up to his chest, the boy's chin falling on his shoulder, back hunched over to fit right. "Please, Mikey, what's wrong?" Despite Frank's prior knowledge of everything, he wanted to hear it from Mikey. He liked to think that there was a little bit of trust between them after four months of knowing each other--one spent dating. Was it too much to ask for Mikey to start opening up?

Mikey nuzzled into Frank's hair, taking in the scent and the way it prickled his nose, letting his fingers glide down Frank's spine to land at the small of his back. "Nothing, everything's fine." He pressed a light kiss to the hollow of Frank's throat, to his hair, to the shell of his ear where he breathed out shakily and murmured, "Just, y'know, don't do that."

Frank backed up, making Mikey straighten up and stand there awkwardly. "So I can't touch you?" Frank asked, cocking his head to the side, running his hand up Mikey's arm for emphasis.

Shock waves ran up Mikey's body projected by Frank's fingertips and he wanted more than ever to hide his face in Frank's neck but he couldn't.

"You can touch me, Frank." He put his hand over Frank's, giving it a squeeze before re-directing it to rest warmly on his hip bone, hoping against everything that Frank couldn't feel the gauze through his shirt. He felt his stomach lurch up into his throat when Frank's thumb ran along his side, smoothing over unknown bruises and over the lump of gauze that covered his cut, then stop.

Mikey's mind worked overtime, all at once gathering what he should do and it clicked with a resounding shot in his head. He leaned down to kiss Frank, shyly flicking his tongue out in imitation of the way Frank did it, gently coaxing Frank's hand into his own. It wasn't great, Mikey's glasses kept getting in the way and he had to bend down so far it was hurting his neck, but he was starting to finally enjoy Frank's mouth on his own, the occasional brush of their noses against each other.

Below him, Frank was gripping onto Mikey's shoulders, making pleased humming sounds despite the gnawing monster in the back of his head telling him that Mikey was stalling, the only fucking reason he was kissing him was because he wanted Frank to forget. Mikey was too smart. Reluctantly, Frank pulled away from Mikey, their lips making a little popping noise. His were red and swollen and still wanted to make the movements of kissing. And, to make it worse, Mikey fucking whimpered, a small sound that echoed throughout the room and hit Frank tenfold.

"Am I that bad at kissing?" Mikey asked, biting down softly on his tingling lip and wringing his hands together.

"No, you're an amazing kisser, Mikey. You're just...wonderful," Frank said softly, leaning up to peck Mikey one last time. "But...I know, alright? I know."

That was possibly the first time that Mikey's heart literally stopped beating, ceased all movement and became a large hulking organ hanging in a chest that really didn't have enough room for it. "You know what?"

"I know that you're kissing me so I won't notice that you're hurt. I was kind of hoping that you would tell me..."

Mikey frowned. Ray broke his promise and told Frank after he promised he wouldn't! Mikey knew he shouldn't have trusted him. Why did he ever trust him in the first place?

"What? I'm not hurt."

Frank bit down on his lip and looked away, nodding to himself. "Bullshit," he whispered.

Mikey crossed his arms again and sniffed. "Fucking Ray..."

"No, don't you get mad at Ray! He was just worried about you!"

"I asked him not to tell and he did! He promised he wouldn't, and I trusted him."

So, the only other person Mikey ever trusted betrayed him. Even though he knew that Mikey was smart enough to realize that it was for a good reason, Frank knew that it really hurt him. He wanted to grab Mikey again and hug him, but he didn't think Mikey was going to let him right now. "Baby, he just cares about you. He doesn't want you to get hurt anymore, it's what friends do." The inner voice inside his head telling him to back the fuck off because Mikey needed space was shot on sight, and Frank stepped forward to wrap his arms around Mikey's waist. He ran his hands up and down Mikey's back, gently pressing his fingers along Mikey's spine to knead out some of the stiffness.

"They lie?" Mikey's voice broke, and at that moment he decided that he needed a cigarette, or at least something to do with his hands. And he can blame it on the smoke if his eyes start to tear up.

"He only lied to help you, and I'm glad he did because you won't tell me when something's wrong!" Frank watched idly as Mikey took his cigarettes out and offered him one. After it was lit and between his fingers, Frank went on, his hands flying off in different directions the way they do when he's frustrated.

"I mean, I would have never fucking noticed, Mikey. Do you know how shitty that feels? You're my best friend and my boyfriend, but I can't even pay enough attention to you to notice that you're getting beaten up!" He put the cigarette back in his mouth and ruffled up his hair, the white stick just barely resting between his parted lips. He began to pace the length of the room.

"There's a lot that I don't know about you, Mikey. You won't tell me anything. I thought that since we've been so close for a while that you might finally feel comfortable with me, and tell me things, but you don't, do you?"

There was a silence, a long stretch of nothing in which Frank had the time to mentally shoot himself because he should have never said any of this. He didn't mean for it to come out so bitchy. His pacing stopped, starting to get on his own nerves, and sank into the wall beside Mikey, right next to a dark red stain on the wall. There was a sigh from beside him.

"I do trust you, Frank, you know that. You're the only person in the world I trust, and the only reason that I don't tell you things is because they aren't important."

Frank arched an eyebrow and was about to tell Mikey that getting beaten up on a regular basis is important, but the door swung open and he shut his mouth, silently cursing whoever decided that they had to go piss at this moment.

Mikey groaned.

"Oooh, Iero and the goth kid! Hi!" It was the same kid who had interrupted them a few weeks ago. Mikey didn't know his name--didn't care, really--but Frank did.

"Hi, Jared," he sighed, flicking his wrist in a limp wave. Jared was a kid in his grade who chose to be ambiguously flamboyant. He was neither boy nor girl, straight or gay. He flirted with whoever he wanted to, and God help him if he tried to flirt with Mikey in front of Frank. Frank didn't mind making himself look like a jealous boyfriend because, to tell the truth, that's what he was. He didn't like it when Mikey would talk to other people. It didn't happen very often, but it has, someone would introduce themselves to Mikey and Frank would stand on the sidelines seething. It wasn't healthy, and he was starting to remind himself of the uncle he had who wouldn't let his wife talk to anyone without accusing her of cheating, but so? Why did Mikey need to talk to anyone other than Frank? He's the one who cares, he's always been there for Mikey.

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you smoked," Jared commented, taking the spot on the other side of Mikey. A flare of jealousy shot through Frank, encompassing his chest and fuck, it hurt. He wanted to tell the guy to fuck off, but--

"Hey, kid?" Mikey asked, standing up off the wall and tilting his body a little to the boy's.

Jared's eyes lit up--stupid, light blue eyes that were just so fucking pretty that Frank wanted to them scratch out. Light blue, man, why couldn't they be shit-hazel like everyone else's in New Jersey? Why did everything about this guy just have to be better than Frank?

"Yeah, Mikey?"

"Oh, so you do know my name then?"

"I do. And I'm Jared."

Okay, shit, Mikey doesn't need to know his name! Why wasn't Mikey threatening him already? Wait, he doesn't want to talk to me, Frank realized, adding to his growing bundle of self-apathy. He was using this to stall as well!

Frank had started to unknowingly block out their conversation, thinking up worthy threats, until he heard his name.

"Yeah, you and Frank make a cute couple," Jared was saying in his quick sharp voice, icy blues glowing. He went on without Mikey answering. "Because, like, you're the goth boy, and Frank's the emo girl."

"I am not an emo girl!" Frank piped up hotly. "...you look more like a damn girl than I do." With his fucking girl pants and long hair that didn't stick up everywhere like Frank's. and his stupid Kohl-lined eyes! Frank was really starting to get upset now, and all he wanted to do was pull Mikey closer, get his to turn away from Jared and pay attention to him, but he didn't want to scare Mikey off with his clingy-ness.

"Mm, Jared?" Mikey asked.

"Yeah?"

"Go away so I can make out with my boyfriend."