FicWad

INFATUATION

Frank sat in the neighbouring cell, playing with the stuffed rabbit. He had been left alone for several hours by now.

He guessed it was around midnight; judging by the laughter and general hullabaloo still resounding in the jail walls not many people went to bed before twelve. In fact, he was under the impression not many people in Sing Sing slept at all. Just over twenty minutes ago a firework had been launched into the air from the first floor, and the boy had seen the glorious red sparks shoot through the air and break through the roof. He had never seen fireworks before.

Meanwhile, the news of Frank arriving had been causing quite a stir within the prison. Gossip running through the thin walls that a full-fledged, never before fucked actual virgin had entered the building was spreading like wildfire. He was sure the mysterious man he was now officially in a courtship with would put this to a stop; he didn't know where Don Way was. He had left the cell six hours earlier, gun in hand, and instructed Frank to wait up for him. He'd be back in ten minutes, tops. That was five hours ago. The boy was on his own all over again. He tucked his knees under his chin and rubbed the small toy against his cheek. He wanted the criminal back.

There was a knock on the side-door of the cell and the boy quickly looked toward it. Should he answer it? Leave it be? He probably should go for the latter, as he doubted the boss would be all too happy if the teenager started invading his business. Frank sucked his lip and looked deep into the eyes of the rabbit. It provided him with some comfort; it reminded him of the happy air of his bedroom, of his mother and his safe harbour of home. His father was a brute but Frank tried not to think of him. He thought happily of the moments he had shared with the boss hours ago. He thought of the words he'd used, the tone he'd said them in. It was such a contrast to how he was normally treated.

Nonetheless the boy jumped in his skin when the door was forced open, the cell momentarily silent as Frank looked at the man who had burst in. It was whom he had seen earlier. He got to regard him closer this time; he was tall and skinny, no muscles plumping up his bony arms. Brown hair was tucked behind his ears and his brown eyes searched the glorious room and then settled on the gorgeous Catholic. Frank froze on the bed and cuddled the rabbit close, tucking the ears beneath his jaw. The brunette man, perhaps a year or two older than Iero, stepped inside Don Way's private cell and put up a hand in sign of greeting. Frank figured by his height, weight and friendly (if not a little bony) features that he was not a foe. Besides, he had been in the adjoining cell as Frank had arrived. So he did likewise, waving shyly.

"Hullo," the other boy said. His voice was a low monotone. Frank bit his lip but said nothing. "I was wondering if you wanted anything." The other one was thrown back a little; no one ever paid attention to him in such an attentive manner. Well - apart from Don Way now. "I know he left a while ago without any food for you so I thought you might be getting hungry. He probably won't be back for a while so I..." he shrugged awkwardly. Frank found himself oddly entranced by this man - he shook the word 'entranced' from his mind - he had a boyfriend now. "I have some food in my cell if you want it." He smiled crookedly and held out his hand. "It's okay. I won't bite, ya know."

Iero still didn't move. This man had a friendly, comfortable atmosphere about him. Don Way was more...heated. More romantic, more private. This prisoner seemed less formal. He still wore a shirt and trousers, expensive and silky, but he looked very approachable.

"My name's Mikey," he said in his thick accent. His smile was lop-sided and sweet; like that of an old friend. "Mikey Way. I'm his brother."

Frank spoke for the first time in his little lisp. "Don Way? You're Don Way's brother?"

"If that's what he goes by now," he scoffed bitterly, throwing on the lamp and walking casually over to Frank, who stiffened. He was supposed to be off-limits to everyone else but the boss. But...this boy was his brother, after all. He acted so kindly to Frank, and his smile made him melt like chocolate. No no - it didn't. It didn't it didn't it didn't. He belonged to Don Way. No one but Don Way made him melt. Especially not his brother. He jauntily bounced on the bunk Frank was sitting on. "I don't care about him anyway - you must be hungry right now. Like, starving!" Frank giggled a little as his overdramatic outburst. "C'mon. He won't mind, or if he does, I'll tell him to go fuck himself." Frank gasped silently at the curse word. Mikey didn't hear - or at least pretended to - and gestured with his hand. "It's just in the next cell, Frankie." His eyes were liquidy. They whirled like restless winds. "I won't be a bitch or anything. You can bring the rabbit if you want." He smiled wider. "I still have a stuffed unicorn I got when I was a kid. His name is Mister Snuggles."

The other boy laughed sunnily. He couldn't help it; the friendliness was touching.

"Mister Snuggles," he said quietly as Mikey joined in with the laughter. "That's a funny name."

"Hey, I was a five year old when I got him, you can't blame me," Mikey said in his defence, holding his hands up in self-protectionism. "I wasn't the most creative when it came to naming shit!"

Frank giggled again as Mikey defended himself. He had never had a friend before; never someone to joke around with and share stories and have a joyous time with. This was totally new to him, and the day had been eventful, to say the least. Going to jail. Earning a boyfriend. Now, hopefully, having a friend. He smiled as Mikey slipped from the bed and gestured for the younger one to follow him. Iero tucked the stuffed rabbit inside his pocket and walked with the younger Way brother.

"So," Mikey called as they moved into the next cell. "How're ya finding Sing Sing so far?"

"Um...it's..." the inmate laughed as Frank struggled to find a suitable adjective for the hell hole. Frank tried to evade the question. "It's okay, I guess. I mean, it's kinda...oh, I-"

"Don't worry, kid," Way comforted as they stepped inside the cell. "Everyone's scared shitless in this place. It's just the arrogant ones who don't admit it. Even the real tough shits in here find life difficult once in a while." He smiled, bent and crooked- just like his older brother- and popped open a can of Coke. He shook it lightly. "You want one?"

"No thank you," the fifteen year old replied politely. Mikey gestured for him to sit, so he pulled out a little wooden one and placed himself on it. Frank regarded the other teenager sip quitely, effeminately from a red can of seemingly fizzy liquid. Truthfully, Frank had never tasted the stuff; something to do with Satan and bubbles and oh Frank carbon dioxide is the oxygen of sinners (whatever the hell that meant.) He thought upon what Mikey had just relayed to him; everyone's terrified. "Everyone's scared?" Frank murmured, looking up through thick, heavy lashes. Mikey, still smiling politely, nodded. "But they were shouting things when I came in. They still are. Horrible, mean things." His voice cracked. "They didn't sound scared. They sounded mean." He looked to the taller teenager. Mikey was silent for a moment before he continued.

"Well, everyone puts on a front, Frankie," Way answered, shrugging nonchalantly. He came over to his bunk-signifigantly less extravagent and/or luxurious than his brother's-and patted the place next to him. "Y'know, they pretend to be different so they look like they fit in. They look like real tough assholes but they're all just yellow cowards when it comes down to it."

"Do you put on a front?" The boy wondered aloud. "Do you pretend to be someone you're not?"

Mikey paused again, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand. He seemed to be considering his answer very thoroughly.

"'S weird," he everntually came out with, quiet and serene. "In all my family and friends I've ever had, you're the first person to talk to me about that." He looked to Frank and soft, chocolate eyes searched the hazel. "Isn't that weird?"

Iero didn't respond. His stomach was churning in a rather uncomfortable, buoyant manner.

"Well, anyway, I'd like to think I'm a pretty honest person. Whatcha see is whatcha get, y'know?" This time, Frank nodded. A bar of chocolate-Hershey's, naturally, Cookies and Creme- was passed to him and he broke a square off, smiling graciously. It tasted moist, soft and sweet on his tongue. "I try to be a decent human being mosta the time." Mikey's accent was a lot sharper than the Don's; the boss's tone was less regional. "I know that sounds like BS coming from a fucking prisoner, but...."

Frank briefly pondered why the younger Way was behind bars. He brushed the thought away and smiled warmly, the best he could muster after such a stressful day.

"I think you're lovely," he said quietly. He didn't know what BS meant; probably an abbreviation for something as opposed to bee-ess. Bad Stuff, maybe? "Just because you're in jail doesn't make you bad." He reached for one more square of the chocolate and gasped breathily when his hand brushed against Mikey's; the criminal's hand was warm and veined, and the contact sent an electric current down Frank's spine. "Oh...I'm sorry...that was rude of me...so sorry..."

"Don't worry about it," Mikey said, shrugging lightly. He broke off a huge piece for Frank and pressed it into his hand. "You should just take all of it. You look real tiny, no offence. Could use some meat on your bones." He smiled that childlike, heart - warming smile as the boy cautiously licked and nibbled at the chocolate bar. "You'll be real safe in here, Frankie." His voice deepened a little and he turned slightly away from Frank. "I'm sure...my brother won't let anyone else do anything to you. Or even think about it. You'll be in...safe hands." An exceedingly loud whooping noise came from the cell directly below them; Mikey screamed "QUIET!" and it ceased immediately. "So you don't gotta worry for the next little while. You'll get into a routine and everything sorts itself out." He paused and looked a little nervous for the first time. "And we'll be friends, won't we, Frankie? You seem like a nice kid."

Frank smiled. Below the tranquil cell, gun shots rang and lungs screeched.



Four hours later, and tired beyond belief, Frank was back in the cell of Don Way. After a brief meeting with Mikey, Frank had finally padded back to the most luxurious cell when he heard the Don's heavy footsteps approaching them. He liked Mikey, he really did; but there were so many unanswered questions as to the younger Way brother- was he much older than Frank? What was he in for? Was he also in the Cosa? Why was he so cold toward his older brother? Frank supposed all answers would come in good time, but it still niggled at the back of his mind.

Or, at least, it had until the Don had returned.

He had not explained where he had been or what he had been doing; he had simply walked in and smiled widely when the boy was sitting on his bed. His knuckles had been bloodied and the flesh surrouding his eye was a little darker but generally Frank still thought he looked utterly beautiful. He flushed when the Don had sat next to him, wondering if the things his Daddy had told him about would happen; the Wandering Hands and Kissing and of course, It. That was the biggest, baddest one of all. He had only discovered what It properly was today, when the gangster had set him straight. He didn't feel very embarassed; that's what he had been told, along with that it was sinful and disgusting and only doable after marriage.

Frank was currently seated on the bed again, playing with the stuffed rabbit, biting his lip. The criminal, toned and muscular, was undressing in front of him, revealing the vast amount of tattoos that ran along his russet skin. They were mainly letters and numerals; the letter 'W' spanned his back, with black little markings along his waist. The letters 'CN' were printed on his neck in black, with small red pistols surrounding them in a circle. Other symbols, like a gun and the colours of the Italian flag, were printed along his chest. Frank knew he shouldn't be looking and invading the criminal's bodily privacy, but his wide, beautiful eyes couldn't help but wander towards the Don. They widened and grew as he did, and his trousers felt tight in a pleasantly irritating way. He looked up to the older man in the dim light of the cell. Most prisoners had gone to bed by now.

"So, Frankie," he started softly, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders. Frank remained enthralled. "You never seen someone naked before?"

The material fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of silk. Don Way walked closer, unclicking his belt. The boy squeezed the rabbit in his grip and shook his head, staring into his lap. The light above him suddenly plunged the pair into darkness.

"No," he answered. "My daddy says skin is the Devil's slip cover."

"That's why you never roll up your sleeves, isn't it?" He questioned as he swaggered closer to Frank, topless. The Catholic didn't know where to look, and so averted his gaze to settle somewhere on the concrete floor. He suckled his bottom lip and ran his fingers along the rabbit, channeling some inner confidence. "Because it's sinful, right?" He chuckled darkly and sat on the bunk, legs spread out so that his knee touched Frank's. His hand found it's place on the boy's upper thigh. "Do you believe that?"

Frank's faith had never been questioned before. The crucifix that lay under his shirt suddenly felt heavy and pressurising.

"I...I don't know." Then: "Yes! Yes, of course I believe it. It's true, it's all true." He felt a little hot under his collar as the fingers wrapped around his leg squeezed his flesh. He gasped quietly and shuffled. "I never...never take off my clothes fully. It's...wrong." He was hushed again, uncertain; did he really believe this? "Sinful. Like you said."

"Everyone takes off their clothes, Frankie," he said into his ear now, flicking his tongue along the flesh. "When you sleep, for exmaple, or when you shower. It's rather unsuitable to be clothes when taking part in those activites, is it not?" His hand slipped in between Frank's legs, the owner of which squeaked and reddened considerably. Below his belt felt swollen and sore, and the criminal's wandering fingers did nothing for it. "And you certainly don't adhere fully to the Bible if you are attracted to men." He leaned in to the boy and pressed their cheeks together. "You can tell me, Frankie. This..." he reached under Frank's shirt suddenly, without warning, and clutched the cross in his hands. The rabbit's flesh was soft, warm and smooth, bright white and flawless. He physically jolted from the shock of being touched there. "This doesn't have to be fucking holding you back." He threw the crucifix to the other side of the cell. His hand had brushed by Frank's nipple as he did; the kid nearly suffered from cardiac arrest. "You don't have to do everything he tells you."

Iero didn't know how to react to that. He felt practically naked in his thin shirt two buttons down. His collar bone was exposed and if he didn't go to Hell for that, than mother of God he was going to Hell for not wearing his crucifix. He'd probably be making out with the Devil for doing that.

"No!" He squealed suddenly, tears springing to his eyes. He stretched out his arms for it, squeaking like a wounded rabbit. "My crucifix!" He scrabbled to the floor, the leader's hand falling from his leg, and gathered the heap of beads into his hand. He brought them to his lips and muttered: "Pater Noster, que es in Caelis-"

"Frank," the criminal breathed. "Come over to me."

The boy got to his feet and returned to the inmate, cradling the beads in his little hold. The Don did not look impressed.

"Your religion forbids love between two men, Frank," he said ever so softly. His hands went to the belt of the younger man and unclipped it. When he spoke next, he sounded so sad and upset. Not weak as someone forlorn might usually appear, but morose all the same. "Forgive my possible ignorance, but I find it so hard to understand why you would believe in a God that condemns homosexuality. That wants you to supress what you want and be 'normal' like the rest of society." At this, he pulled up Frank's shirt from his trousers and pressed his forehead to the teenager's flat stomach. Frank was too shocked to speak. "I am yet to comprehend what is so evident about the character of this Christ man and why so many people install their undying faith in him." His brown creased. He still looked angelic to Frank. "Or, more importantly and less offensive, why he is so opposed to men lying with men."

Iero recognized the quote without hesitation.

"Leviticus," he murmured, and the Don nodded. "I just...I don't know. I guess....you aren't...you aren't Catholic?"

"I used to be," the other answered silently, hands still poised on the younger's bare hips. Don Way rolled his thumbs over the milky flesh. "Your father certainly took the time to try and refurbish the religion of which I am so vehemently opposed to." His eyes glittered with honesty. "I've read the Bible a million times over, Frank. I've gone to church and confessed my sins and fasted during Lent and all that." A pause. "But I honestly don't care what some man high up on a cloud thinks, or, and forgive me if I come across as rude, my love, what your father thinks. Your father, to be most uncouth, is a complete and utter cunt." At this, Frank laughed. This was followed by a shrill, feminine shriek as he realized he had dishonoured his parent; oh Lord, he had betrayed one of the most important Commandments. He was going to have cut himself a million times for that. "I don't care. I've killed. I've lied. I've coveted someone and something that wasn't mine. I've disrespected my parents, I've taken the Lord's name in vain. I haven't kept the Sabbath holy." He grinned wickedly. It made the teenager's knees weak. "And I don't give a shit."

"Aren't you afraid of going to Hell?" The boy asked so fearfully, daring to touch the Don's hand. "Of the wrath and the vengence of the Lord?"

"Honey, the Lord's got some wrath and vengence," Way said with that grin, "but He ain't got none compared to me."


For the record, I am not some sacriligious bitch or anything, I'm actually Catholic. I'm just shaking it up a little so I'm not basically re-writing a prison version of First of the Gang.

(As much as I'd like that...people would read it, amirite? Oh Jesus, Lornaigh, stfu...)

xo LNI