FicWad

It has been too long, but a promise is a promise and this will be finished.

28.


I find myself sitting on the swing at the park Gerard and I had once visited. I remember the night vividly, Gerard innocently chasing me around and carrying me home. Those people in my memory don't feel like the same ones I face today. That night was also the first night Gerard made me hard. The first night all my problems started. Now I find myself here, running from my parents who now know the truth. Running from Gerard who represents what was once my secret. I can't understand why he would do this to me. My life is now probably over. My parents will either kick me out or send me to some catholic boarding school in attempt to stage some kind of reform or intervention. Just because he has the perfect life where his parents are never around, a brother who always has his back and the entire population of the school girls and guys alike in love with him, just because his out does not mean I have to be too. I'm not going to be able to face people after this. He's right, I am weak. I am not cut out for this shit.

The more I think about it the angrier I get. Gerard is so fucking selfish. He can't just turn up and ruin my life. I may not have been happy before I met him, but at least I was able to show my face in my own house. Without realising I have began walking the familiar route to Gerard's house, I know in the back of my mind that I'm being irrational about blaming what is happening purely on Gerard. But now is one of those moments where I need someone to blame. When I arrive at his I knock calmly on the door. When he opens it he does not look surprised to see me standing there and just steps to the side to allow me in. I glance into the TV room but cannot see Mikey and so figure he must be with Alicia.

I slowly turn to look at him, leaning against the wall in a white t-shirt and tight black jeans I can feel just how attracted I am to him. But that makes me angry.

"Do you know what you have done?" I ask quietly. He shakes his head and loudly lets out a breath.

"It had to be said." He says, no apologetic tone in his voice, no regret.

"What do you mean it had to be said? Nothing had to be said. No one had to know anything." I say gesturing with my hands. "But you and your fucking big mouth just had to say something." Gerard rolls his eyes and rests one of his hands against the side of his temple.

"Well it's not like you were going to say it." Gerard says.

"Of course I wasn't fucking going to say it, I didn't want anybody to know. Just because you're fine with everyone knowing you are a faggot does not mean I am." I am aware that I am swearing and that I am using the most derogatory terms I can to describe Gerard and even myself. But I don't care. I want Gerard to be angry, I need him to know how I feel. I want him to yell at me just so I can validate the hate I feel toward him.

"What were you going to do then Frankie? Were you just going to spend the rest of your life pretending you were straight? Marry your little girlfriend Nina and have a little family?" Gerard asked staring me down.

"You know what? Maybe I was going to. It'd be better than being known as the town's very own fairy and whore!" I knew as soon as the word passed my lips that it would hurt Gerard and I had intended it too.

"I am not a fucking whore." He sneers in a low voice through gritted teeth, eyes glaring at me as he takes a step toward me. "Don't call me that Frankie. You're just angry right now and I get it. But don't call me that."

I could feel my hand twitching at my side. How dare he tell me what I can and cannot say? He didn't seem to care too much about what he was saying when he outed me to my parents. He had taken another step toward me and if it weren't for the fact I knew that he would never hit me, I would have been afraid. But I wanted him too. I wanted him to raise a fist at me, only so I could hit him back. I don't know why I did, but I was just so angry. I shoved him, hard. He stumbled backward, taken aback by the fact I had actually done it.

"What the fuck, Frankie?" He asked, getting grounded again. I shoved him again. I wanted to get him angry, I wanted him to feel what I felt.

He put his hand out toward my chest as I moved forward again, his eyes held confusion and worry. For once the charming and flawless Gerard did not know what to do. When I got close enough, his hand touched my chest and fist closed into my shirt. He paused and stared at me as I did the same breathless. He began to pull me close to him, so close, and as soon as I realised what he was about to do, I snapped. I hit his hand away from my chest with my left hand, while my right hand closed into a fist and connected with his mouth. That pretty mouth that was surely just about to be on mine.

I don't know whether it was because he was not ready for it that he didn't even try and stop it, or because he just didn't think I was capable of doing it, but my punch made him stumble backward, and as I saw blood begin to drip down his chin, all my rage evaporated.

"I-I.." I stared at him speechless, watching him lean his head to the side and spit blood from his mouth. He held his hand out in a gesture for me to stop talking.

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

-----------

I sit in a chair next to the bath tub. Gerard is lying back in it, newly washed face resting peacefully. He let me follow him up here, and I have been silently watching him wash blood from his chin and clean his body, always scrubbing too furiously at his face.

"Stop." I say and bring a hand up toward him, but am unable to touch. I do not feel as if I have a right to touch him anymore after what I did.

He stops anyway, looks over to me and sighs. He starts using his finger to draw patterns in the water and I retract my hand and continue to watch.

"So there was this boy I met years ago. He was beautiful in a conventional sort of way. He flirted with me one afternoon and so our little affair began." He smiles lightly as he speaks, as if reliving the moment. I stay silent and continue to listen.

"One day, like many days, he came back to my house so we could fool around. I was on my knees in front of him as he sat on my bed. I remember being so focused on the feeling of his warm dick in my mouth, that focus is probably why I didn't hear the footsteps coming toward my door." He chuckles in a way that more sounds like a weak sob, and looks up at the ceiling.

"I wasn't completely out of it though that I didn't hear the sound of my door opening. But as I quickly jerked my head up and my father walked into the room, this conventionally beautiful boy was passed so close, that my father arrived just in time to see him come on my panicked face." Gerard reaches up and takes a hand to his face and begins to absentmindedly rub it.

"He was so... disgusted with me. I never saw that boy again after he ran from my house. And I sat there desperately trying to wipe my face clean. My dad has always been a man of few words but he had something to say. He told me that 'you'd never be able to wash the sin from your face'." Gerard's voice mimicked one of poison and again the hard, ruthless scrubbing at his face had begun.

I reached over and grabbed his wrist to halt it. "Please?" Was my only word. He looked over to me for the first time since he started talking.

"My mother's response was of a different nature. 'I didn't raise a fag for a son, who gets down on his knees like a whore.'" He snickers as he finishes his high pitched attempt at his mother's voice.

"I know you think I have things pretty good, but only on the surface is that true. I was sent to therapists, boarding schools... If it weren't for Mikey we wouldn't have ever met. He kept running away to find me. The honest reason my parents are never home is because this is not their home. They refused to let me be in the same house as them, but due to also wanting to keep Mikey close, we live here alone together. My parents live a couple of streets over."

My mouth hangs open as I listen to his confession. I feel sick and shocked and just so sad. I stand from where I was sitting, and without removing a piece of clothing, lower myself into the water. I sit in his lap and hold his face, filled with shame and swollen from pain, and kiss him.

Eventually hands become everywhere and clothes become nowhere. Slowly my heavy and wet clothes are removed from my body, as I whisper words of apologies and love. We rock our hips together, grinding against one another, kissing in between breathing. Through our desperation and sorrows, I have never felt less alone and cannot even contemplate the idea of leaving this house without making this boy mine again, for I know no other body and have no desire to learn.