FicWad

Somehow, this accidently got deleted, so I'm reposting it. Chapter 3 should be up tomorrow. And thanks for being paitent with me.


I sat in the too white, too bright, sterile-feeling waiting room, hating every minute of this. I don't belong here. I shouldn't be here, I should be at work, or in bed. Anywhere but here. But here I was, anyways, at eight in the morning, waiting for them to call my name, calling me into the office. I felt nervous, uneasy. How could anyone expect me to tell these horrible things to a complete stranger? I couldn't think about it without breaking down into tears.

They're going to judge me. They're going to hear what happened, and see how dirty and disgusting I am. They'll see what a filthy, broken, pathetic excuse for a man I am. That scared me more than anything, to be so vulnerable. All the walls I spent years putting up, the guards and defenses, are just going to be torn away. I started to panic. My hands trembled, I broke out into a cold sweat. I wanted to leave, walk out the door, and never look back.

"Frank Iero?" A middle aged woman called. She didn’t know who I was. Had no clue what I looked like. I could get up, and walk out the door, and she would never know it was me. That would work, except there was only four people in this unpleasant waiting room at the un-godly, early hour. And three of them were women.

She was walking towards me. Maybe I could hide, under a chair, or behind the fake tree in the corner of the room. I was small enough. But she was already standing over me, me cowering back into the uncomfortable chair. “Are you Frank Iero.” I don’t know why I said what I did. She would have to be a fucking idiot to believe me, but I just really didn’t want to go in there.

“No.” I squeaked in a quiet voice. The woman stared at me with a strange expression on her face before smiling. “Come on, Mr. Iero.” Begrudgingly, I followed her, sulking like a small child on the inside, but trying to at least act relatively mature. She motioned for me to sit, I stood there eyes flicking back and forth between the chair and her, before realizing I didn’t have much of a choice, and complying,

“So, Mr. Iero, is it okay if I call you Frank? I don’t care much for formality, “Sure. Call me whatever you want.” I said dully, feeling defeated. “Okay then Frank, if it’s okay with you, since you seem uncomfortable, I thought we could spend this session getting to know each other. If you don’t feel comfortable talking about something, just say so, and we’ll move on to something else. How’s that?” Knowing she wasn’t going to push me did make me feel somewhat better. “That sounds good.” My voice was quiet, it sounded weak. She gave me a reassuring smile. “Okay, well my name Dr. Malone. You can either call me that or Beth. I’d prefer Beth, but whatever you’re more comfortable with is fine.”

I didn’t really know what to say. I intended on sitting there until she broke the silence, no matter how awkward it got. Thankfully though, she started talking before that happened. “So tell me about yourself some, Frank.” I thought for a second. “Is that another way of asking why I’m here, or do you actually want to know about me?” My tone wasn’t sarcastic, I genuinely didn’t know.
“You can tell me either. Like I said, I’m not going to force you to tell me anything. I want this to be a comfortable place.”

“Okaaay, then.” I drawled the word out. “I’ll tell you both, they’re kind of synonymous...I grew up in Jersey. A town called Bellville. I don’t have any brother or sisters...I think that’s for the best though, all things considered. I’m close to my mom, her name is Linda. I love animals, I have a dog, his name’s Professor Buckley. I don’t remember how I came up with that name, but it suits him. I’m a vegetarian. I don’t have that many friends, but the ones I do have are kinda awesome. I’ve known Gerard and his brother, Mikey for years. I met Ray in college...I think it was my freshman year, he was buying a t-shirt at some local band’s concert. I play guitar. I actually named it. It’s name’s Pansy.

I’m not close to my dad, because...” I stopped. This is the part I had been dreading. Trying to think of anything else to talk about. “Because why, Frank?” Her voice was kind and warm. “Because when I was little...h-he would...do things to me.” I hung my head, feeling embarrassed and shameful. The memories started coming back. The ones I had tucked away into a special place in my brain so I wouldn’t have to deal with them. She started to say something, but I kept going, caught up in my own torment.

“He was an awful bastard. He drank all the time. And beat me...I still have scars. They’re so ugly. I can’t even look in the mirror without being reminded of what he done to me.” Tears started to roll down my face, and I began to tremble. “H-He touched me...when I was little. Told me that I couldn’t tell anybody, cause it was our little secret. That I was special, and others just wouldn’t understand. I didn’t understand...why it felt so awful. I remember not understanding how he could like it so much when it made me feel so horrible.” I felt sick. I thought I was going to throw up all over her desk. It was like a horror movie. As awful as the things I saw in my mind were, I couldn’t turn them off. I almost felt like it was happening again.

“I told him I didn’t like it. But he said it was my fault. And if I told anybody, he would tell them it was my idea. He molested me, and blamed me for it!” I was sobbing now, the trembling having turned into shudders, quaking through my whole body. “Then one night, my mom was staying with her sister because she was sick, and he...” I was gasping for air, sheen of sweat covering my body. “He raped me!” I felt like his hands were on me again. I was dizzy, thought I was going to pass out.

I felt a hand on my knee. Not realizing who it was, I jumped, slapping it away. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” I shrieked. “It’s okay. Shhh...calm down, Frank. You’re here, it’s not happening.” Finally, I came back to reality. I looked around, still trembling, my breathing starting to return to normal. “I-I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean-” She cut me off. “I understand, Frank. You don’t need to apologize.” I felt vulnerable, exposed. Like my skin was on inside out. I pulled my small knees up to my chest, and began rocking back and forth.

Her calming voice caught my attention. “Is that why you’re here, Frank?” I shook my head no. My voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “I came here because I have been having awful nightmares about...that. I would wake up crying and shaking almost every night. I couldn’t sleep. I told my friend Gerard, and he said he used to have these night terrors. Not for the same reason, though. He said talking to a therapist helped him. That’s why I’m here, I just want them to stop. I’m afraid they’re going to make me insane.”

Beth nodded her head, scribbling something down on a note pad. She noticed me looking at her. “I’m just writing down what you told me. That way I don’t forget.” I simply nodded. She looked at me, her green eyes intent. “Well Frank, it seems to me, this has left you very traumatized. Emotionally scarred. These dreams are evidence of that. I believe the reason you started having them is because all these years, your subconscious has been struggling with the emotional damage. But you never acknowledged the issues that were present. The human mind can only take so much, Frank.” She looked at me sympathetically.

“Has anything happened recently that could cause these emotions to resurface?” Her intense gaze made me feel slightly uncomfortable. “My dad got out of jail.” Her face lit up with understanding. “Ah, and when did that happen?” I thought back to the day I got the call that had made my stomach churn. “Um...about three months ago.” He nodded, writing down something else. “And when did these nightmares start.” That one was easy. “About three months ago.”
She had a knowing expression on her kind face. “Exactly.” She glanced at the clock.

“Frank...I’m sorry, but our time is up today. I really would like you to come back, there’s a lot that needs to be worked out. I want to help you.” Her eyes were full of sincerity and compassion. “If you think it will help.” I said weekly, my voice somewhat expressing the uncertainty I felt.
She simply nodded. “You can make your appointment with the receptionist.” I got up to leave. “Would it be okay to ask you for a hug? You seem like you need one.” Her kindness made me smile. “Yeah.” I responded. She wrapped her arms around me in a motherly hug. I noticed she smelled like my aunt as she pulled away. “You take care of yourself now. Okay, Frank?”

“I will.” I promised. She pulled out a simple card with maroon colored writing. “Here. Call me if you need to come in, or just need to talk. I stay late most days, so even if it’s after hours.” I nodded. “I will.” I said again. She smiled warmly as I walked out, closing the door quietly behind me. I quickly made my appointment, and left, catching my reflection in the window as I walked out the door. I really was a pitiful sight.

When I got out, there he was, waiting on me, just like he promised. He looked up from the book he was reading, sitting on the bench, as I approached. “Hey Frankie, how’d it go?” I ignored his question, fearing I would start crying again. “Just take me home, Gerard.” My voice was whisper quiet. Thankfully, Gerard asked nothing else, but rather wrapped his arm around my small shoulders, and started walking us to my small apartment. “Okay, Frankie.”

I knew that him wrapping his arm around me meant something completely different to me than it did to him. He thought he was only comforting his hurting friend. And while I knew that’s all he was really doing, I wanted so badly that it quite literally hurt for it to mean more. But I pushed that to the back of my mind - pushed all emotions to the back of mind, and sunk into his side. Trying to enjoy the feeling of being so close, of his arm around me. And for the fifteen minutes it took to walk home through the streets, I pretended there was something more behind it.

***

As soon as my apartment door shut, I was in his arms. Crying, and him rubbing soothing circles on my back. It felt so fucking right. If I knew it would mean he would never let me go, I would’ve kept crying for the rest of our lives. But obviously that wouldn’t work. “Frank...Frankie? What’s wrong? What happened in there that was so awful? I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me, but you’re scaring me. I just want to make it better.”
We were sitting on my old, but comfortable couch, his arms were around me, and I was crying into his shoulder.

Gerard knew. Since almost the beginning, he had known about the beatings, all the awful things my father had done. Gee was the one who I always ran to. He gave me a place to stay, and nursed all the black eyes, bloody noses, and swollen lips delivered by my father. So naturally I told him.

“I told her...what he done to me, and I don’t know...I freaked out. I lost it. I couldn’t breath, I felt like it was happening.” His pretty, hazel eyes were staring down at me, filled with concern.
I was pulled closer to him, into his lap, as he rested his cheek on my head. I knew this wasn’t right. I knew it was wrong to feel this way about my best friend. Even more wrong that he was a guy. It scared me a little that I did. All through high school, all through college, I had always liked girls. With the exception of Gerard. I had never had a boyfriend, never kissed a boy. Never wanted to, with Gerard being the exception, of course.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, snuggling closer into his lap, burring my head into his neck. It seemed every time one of us done something, it was crossing some kind of line. “It’s okay, Frankie. It’s not going to happen again. I’m not going to let anything hurt you like that again.” Then I felt something on my neck. Lips...his lips...Gerard’s lips were on my neck. That meant Gerard was kissing my neck. But he couldn’t be. Things like that just don’t happen to me. But there they were. There they still are, moving up my neck, getting closer to my ear.

In the back of my mind, there was something screaming that this was wrong in every possible way. But there was also a voice screaming that I like it. That voice was louder.

“Frankie.” He whispered, his quiet voice giving me chills. “Look at me.” I pulled away, looking into his honest, hazel eyes that were pleading with me to trust him. "It's okay to like it." He leaned forward slowly, his eyes locked on mine the whole time. Like he was gauging my reaction. I was nervous, gnawing on my lip. I wanted this so badly. I had for so long, ever since my freshman year of high school. Nine years, if you're counting. And here it was.

He raised his hand, running his thumb along my lower lip, urging me to stop chewing on it. Then he brought it to my neck, over my scorpion tattoo, and gently pulled me to meet his lips. They were soft, and gentle. The kiss itself sweet and sensuous. I couldn't believe it. I truly couldn't believe Gerard would even want to kiss me. I knew he had been with guys, but I had always assumed that was him just screwing around. That with him being twenty-seven now, he had grown out of it.

It's not like I had always imagined he would kiss me. I had always imagined that if Gerard ever kissed me, it would be one of those moments where metaphorical fireworks go off. But that didn't happen. Instead, it was the gentlest, sweetest thing I had ever felt in my life. There was this slow burning passion, driving it forward. And I had never felt as cared for and loved as I did in that moment.

But at the same time, I was so fucking afraid. I had never kissed a guy before. Not that I had actually kissed that many people at all. My experience to pull from was limited, to say the least. The few kisses I had being awkward, and just all around unpleasant. And then, growing up Catholic, it had been drilled into my brain from a very young age that being gay was wrong. My parents were homophobic, and would probably disown me if they knew what I was doing. I liked it, but I was afraid to.

"Frankie?" Gerard whispered against my lips. "Please kiss me back?" I then realized I hadn't been doing anything with my lips. He probably thought I was an awful kisser.
I moved my lips against his. Our hot breath mingling together. I felt his tongue lightly lick my bottom lip, and I parted my lips slightly, letting him slip his tongue into my mouth. As soon as I moaned into his mouth, my whole body stiffened, and I pulled away as quick as I could.

He looked hurt and confused. "I'm sorry, Gerard...I didn't mean to...I mean..." I trailed off, not knowing what I meant. His voice was quiet. "Do you want this, Frankie?" That may have been the only thing I was sure of I the time. I nodded. "Yeah." He smiled this beautiful smile that only he could, exposing his small teeth. He moved us so that I was straddling him, and he pressed his lips just below my jaw. I leaned my head back, giving him access to my neck, and him taking full advantage of it. Gently licking and kissing and nipping at my neck before moving back to my lips. I melted into the kiss, absolutely loving every second of it. Gerard's soft moans encouraging me.

I had never felt so right kissing somebody before. I never wanted it to stop. But it did eventually, as we needed to breath. He rested his forehead against mine, us both slightly panting. Something occurred to me right then. "What are we doing?" I asked, suddenly realizing that right now could be the only time this ever happens. I also knew that would break my heart. To want something so bad it hurts, getting a taste of how amazing it is, only so I can be tormented by the knowledge of what I'm missing when I can never have it again.

"I thought you liked it?" He sounded confused. "I do, but Gerard, I can't do this if the only reason you're doing it is because it feels good. I'm not going to do that to myself."
"Frank, I don't understand." I sighed.
"I can't kiss you knowing it means more to me than it does to you. What we're doing...it doesn't mean the same to you as it does to me." I hated to admit it, but I knew it was true. He had never taken it seriously when it came to the guys he had been with. I'm not saying he used them. It went both ways. They used each other as ways to get off. I couldn't be just another way to get off for him...he would always be more than that to me.

"Frankie, what do you think this means to me?" I thought for a second.
"I think, you wanted to comfort me, and you saw how much I liked it when you held me...you felt sorry for me, took pity on me, and kissed me. Thinking 'Oh, it will make Frankie feel better, and it will be fun for me, too. So I'm gonna make out with my best friend.' I'm not mad at you Gerard, I just can't let myself get hurt like that." I finished. He had been waiting patiently and listening intently the whole time.

"Why would that hurt you? Lets say, for arguments sake, those were my motives. Why would it hurt you like you say it would. And I've got another question for you...what did us kissing mean to you? What did me holding you mean to you?"

Holy shit, those were two very hard questions to answer. I thought very carefully how to phrase my answer. "It would hurt me because like I said, it would mean something completely different to me than it did to you. I was kissing somebody who I care about more than I care about anybody else. You were kissing your next way to get off." I hated to say something so harsh to Gerard, but the truth is harsh.

His eyes were burning with anger, suddenly. He spoke deliberately and slowly, like he was trying to not yell. "Is that what you think? Do you think so little of me? Think that I'm such a fucking whore that I would use you like that? I've slept around, you know that as well as I do, but only because I told you. I told you because I fucking trusted you to not judge me. But obviously you did, since as soon as you saw the opportunity, you threw it back in my face." His voice was seething with anger, and tinged with pain.

"Do you honestly think that's how I treat somebody who's just my next way to get off?" He was starting to scare me, in all the time I've known him, I'd never seen him so angry. "If I was just planning on fucking you, Frankie, I wouldn't be gentle. I wouldn't make it sweet. I wouldn't fucking care about any of that. I wouldn't try to make it good for you. You wanna know what I'd do? I'd do the same exact goddamned thing I do to every other guy, and let me tell you something Frank. There's been alot of them. I'd unzip my pants, and shove my dick in your mouth, and make you suck it. I would throw you up against the wall, pull your pants down, and shove my cock in your ass. I would make you my bitch. And I would make you fucking like it. Is that what you want, Frank? Do you want to be my bitch?" Tears were rolling down my face. I couldn't believe he said that to me. It hurt worse than if he had hit me.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
"Cause it's not what I want. I don't want that with you, Frankie. I would never treat you like that. I want to love you, and hold you, and be good to you." I could see tears welling up in his eyes. "I want to be gentle and sweet. If you were mine, I'd never fuck you. I would make love to you, and after we were finished, you would curl up against my chest, and I would hold you and tell you how much I love you. And when I kissed you, it would be beautiful and sweet and perfect. I would love every second of it. And when I told you I loved you, I would mean it with everything I had in me. And when I made you cry," He wiped away my tears. "I would feel like an asshole, and do anything to make it better again." His eyes were pleading with me. Begging me to understand, to forgive.

I couldn't believe he was saying this. I couldn't believe he felt this way about me. For the life of me, I just couldn't comprehend how somebody so beautiful, with his flawlessly pale skin, intense hazel eyes, and soft black hair could find me attractive. How somebody so creative, talented, intelligent and artistic, and simply amazing, could have the desire to even be around me, much care about me the way he was saying he did. It blew my mind.

"Frankie? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that...about making you my bitch, especially with what happened with...well, you know. I just...I mean you just...I mean..." He heaved frustrated sigh, and tried again. "You really hurt me when you said you thought I was using you as just another way to get off. It killed me that someone I love so much would think of me as such a whore, think so little of me." A few silent tears slipped down his face. Gerard isn't a crier.

Then it occurred to me that he mentioned loving me about three times. Gerard said he loves me.
Oh, and he thinks I think he's a whore that would use me for sex. I need to fix that. "Gee...baby?" I tried the word out, unsure of what his reaction would be. His head snapped up, and he smiled slightly. "Is it okay if I call you that?" He wrapped his hand behind my neck, pulling me closer. "You can call me whatever you want." That made me smile.
"Even my boyfriend?" Holy fucking hell. There is no way I just said that. No wait, I did. Oh god, he's gonna hate me. He's gonna really fucking hate me.
"If you want to." Or maybe not. I didn't know what to say. But if what he said just then left me speechless, what he said next left me breathless.
"Cause I know I really fucking want to call you mine." I sat there for a moment, letting it sink in.

I leaned closer to him, very slowly, like he had earlier. Then I pressed my lips to his for just a moment before pulling away, something nagging at my mind. "I don't think you're a whore. I know you think I do, but I want you to know that's not true. You're the most perfect, amazing person in my life." He smiled and moved his hands to my waist, rubbing them up and down my sides. "I love you, Gee." I whispered, my tone barely audible. His smile was so beautiful. "Oh god, Frankie. I love you so fucking much." He said before pulling my lips back to his.