FicWad

by the way, i like feedback. just a simple, "good story" or "this sucks" would suffice. i just wanna know what the readers actually think of this story; what's the point of continuing it if no one wants to read it, right? thanks, try to enjoy this next chapter XP
.................................
Gerard’s POV

I tried to take a step back, but I was already up against the lockers.

“You… you know Mikey?” I stammered.

“Yeah, I knew him last year. I moved here from Chicago; we went to the same school. He told me about a lot about you,” he said threateningly. He still had me somewhat pinned against the lockers, and I was surprised Frank was being so silent. His face was certainly a deep shade of red, though. “He’s moving, you know. To Hawthorne. In less than a month, he will be living less than half an hour away from you.”

“What?” Frank jumped in. “Gerard, why didn’t you tell me that?”

“He also,” continued Eric smugly, “Wanted me to tell you that he has already planned a little surprise for a certain someone… with my help, of course.”

“…Gerard?” Frank asked again, wanting me to explain.

“Look, Mikey doesn’t bother me. I don’t care about Mikey, so what the hell do you want?” I tried to push Eric away from me so I wouldn’t be stuck between him and the lockers, but he slammed me back, causing the loud metallic sound of lockers to echo through the empty hall.

“Eric…” Frank started. “Leave him alone.”

“Leave him alone? He’s a queer faggot! He’s a worthless bitch!”

That hurt.

“Look, Frank doesn’t care about your ‘faggot’ shit, so why don’t you leave me the hell alone?” I said, attempting to push him off me again.

“Frank doesn’t care? Of course he cares, don’t you, Frank?”

Frank shifted uncomfortably, clearly caught in the middle. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat. Come on, Frank, spit it out. “Um…”

“Frank cares, or else he wouldn’t have helped me get rid of those queers in the hallway. Remember those gay faggots that were making out earlier today? We showed them, huh?”

I looked at Frank in shock. That didn’t make sense to me at all; he wouldn’t do something like that.

Apparently it didn’t make sense to Frank either, since he said, “Eric, what the hell are you talking about? I never—”

“After I threw a pen at them, remember? Damn, you’re slow. I said something like, ‘Faggots don’t belong here,’ and you agreed. I know you remember that.”

My eyes didn’t leave Frank. He said that? I didn’t believe it. Please, Frank, tell him he was wrong. Hurry up and tell me Eric was lying, please, Frank.

He didn’t.

His face never met mine; it just turned a deeper shade of red and looked at the floor shamefully. No.

“That’s bullshit!” I yelled, pushing Eric off me with one mighty shove. “You don’t go around making up lies about people like that, especially not your so-called best friend! I know Frank would never say shit like that because he’s also—”

“No!” Frank interrupted me, speaking for the first tine in minutes. He even took a step towards me.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’? No to what, Frank?” I said, perhaps a little too angrily. I didn’t care; Eric had pissed me off, and Frank wasn’t doing much to help our case. “Did you, or did you not say that about the people in the hall?”

He looked down at his shoes, looking like he was about to cry or something. God, what was wrong with him? All he needed to do was admit he didn’t say it, and Eric would leave him alone. Damn, was I wrong.

“Frank, answer me!” Without thinking, and forgetting about his bruises, I quickly reached out and very tightly grabbed a hold of both his shoulders, shaking him violently. He breathed in sharply, but I couldn’t tell whether it was in pain or in fear. Both seemed equally satisfying at the moment.

Tears formed in his eyes as he tried to escape my grasp, which only caused me to grip his shoulders harder; my knuckles were starting to turn white. His eyes looked up at me, wide with terror, and he was whimpering. I’m scaring him, I thought. I’m either scaring him or hurting him, maybe both. “Tell me the truth, Frank,” I tried to whisper, looking him in the face.

He closed his eyes and took a shuddery breath. Then, all too quickly, he squeaked, “I’m sorry, Gee! I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t thinking, Gee!” Behind me, Eric laughed and made some smartass remark. I couldn’t believe it; Frank really had said something.

I felt my heart sink: this whole weekend… was fake; a mere masquerade. He never loved me; I knew the moment I met him he was just trying to play a joke on the gay kid. I just didn’t want to believe it. I thought people had changed. This time, it had gone too far.

Angrily, I pushed Frank backwards with all my blind fury and he slammed back into the lockers hard, and then fell to the ground. Picking up my bookbag, I threw it over my shoulder and started walking down the hall, leaving Frank on the floor, still whimpering.

Passing Eric, I hissed, “You tell Mikey I don’t give a shit what he does anymore,” and I was on my way.

Frank's POV

He hurt me. Gerard hurt me.

As I was lying on the ground crying over what just happened, I took Eric's extended hand, and he helped me up. We started to walk down the hall the opposite way Gerard left, me feeling shitty about what I had just done.

“Good job, man. We sure showed that faggot.”

“Eric, no,” I said, unsure why I chose that moment to tell him what I was about to tell him. “What were you doing? Gerard wasn’t…”

“Don’t worry about it. Way won’t be bothering you anymore,” he finished.

“No, he wasn’t bothering me; he was helping me.”

“Helping you? You don’t need help from a fag.”

“Gerard’s not a fag…”

He laughed, thinking it was a joke. “Yeah, and I’m not a guy.”

“I mean it. Gerard didn’t do anything wrong. And I didn’t know you knew Mikey.”

“Yeah, I do. Real cool guy. We’re like, best friends. I talk to him almost every week, dude. It’s going to be fun kicking fags’ asses when he moves.”

Shit. “Gerard didn’t tell me Mikey was moving…”

“Eh, why do you care? If he’s smart, he won’t hang out near you anymore. And if he does, tell me and I’ll kill him. Honestly, me and Mikey have been planning that for a while.”

“You what?! Don’t say that! You and Mikey don’t know shit about Gerard! He’s helping me out with a problem I have, and I love…” Oops, shit, now Eric knew.

He stopped suddenly, turning to me. “What did you just say?”

I swallowed nervously. “You heard me.”

“You mean to tell me, you’re one of ‘em?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. I nodded slowly, looking at my shoes.

He said nothing for a minute, and then: “So you and Mikey’s brother… do each other?”

I blushed in embarrassment; he had the absolute wrong idea. Before I could respond, he saw my blush and assumed the worst.

“God, Frank! I didn’t know you were a fag!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, causing me to blush even harder.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong…”

“Shut the hell up, you little faggot. Don’t give me any more of your shit.” With that, he stormed off, leaving me alone in the hall. I tried to take a deep breath. I was now alone, and Gerard had hurt me.

Gerard’s POV

I got home about five minutes later, slamming the door shut behind me. I was pissed.

“Gerard, honey, how do you feel? How’s your head?”

“Better, thanks, Grandma,” I lied.

“That’s good. Listen, I’m going to go back to my bridge club. I’m going to take Marge in a rematch, so I’ll be back in a few hours, okay?”

“Okay. Have fun,” I said.

“Oh, and is Frankie stopping by again today?”

I hesitated, sighing. “No, Grandma,” I said slowly. Then, quietly under my breath, I said, “He won’t be stopping by here ever again.”

“Aw, won’t we miss him, then. Maybe he’ll come by tomorrow; I already have some vegetarian lasagna waiting for him in the freezer. Anyway, I’m off to my bridge game. I’ll be back sometime after dinner, so you’ll have to fix yourself something.”

“That’s fine. Bye, Grandma.” She shut the door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

God, it all happened so fast. So Eric knew Mikey, huh? And he knew Mikey was moving, and didn’t he also say he and Mikey had also planned out a way to get to Frank? Well, God, at least he didn’t know about me and Frank. At least he didn’t know Frank was gay. Damn, Frank, thanks for nothing.

And Frank: it didn’t seem possible that Frank could have just used me like that. I never thought he would have said that about homosexuals. I thought he was happy to be with me; God knows I was happy to be with him. I bet he and Eric were together right then, laughing about how stupid I was for believing Frank's lies. I never should have trusted him.

But I still couldn’t help feeling bad for hurting him like that. Mental images of Frank looking at me in fear, as if he were afraid of me; falling helplessly to the floor because of me; they filled my head faster than any drug. I was turning into some kind of animal.

I would not turn into an animal again, I thought. But now, it’s too late. Frankie is no longer mine – no longer anything. I couldn’t tell whether I was angry or sad because of this fact; I just knew I was definitely not happy at all.

God, I hadn’t felt this bad in years. Since seventh grade, to be precise, but even in seventh grade, I had someone I could run to. Now I didn’t even have that. I was alone.

I was alone. I remember having that thought years ago, before I even met my boyfriend back then. This particular thought was what caused me to nearly commit suicide, and if Bert hadn’t have found me and “befriended” me, I would certainly not be around today.

That did not, under any circumstances, make Bert a hero, nor a savior, or any other honorable figure whatsoever: this I have decided over a span of a few years. Bert was trash: he was lower than trash, he was dirt. And to think, all these years, he’s had superiority over me. No matter how shitty and fake he turned out to be, he was, and always will be, a better person than me. I hated myself for it.

But forget Bert. Forget Frank. Forget Mikey and Eric, and anyone else who found joy in seeing people like me writhe in the daily pain of living my life. Who the hell needed them, anyway?

Oh, that’s right. Apparently I do. Well, fuck them. I’ll show them all that I can live my own damn life, the way I wanted to. To hell with them all, I didn’t care.

I got through this depression shit once; I can sure as hell do it again.

I got up from my seat on the couch to make my way to my closet, where I knew for a fact I had a friend waiting.