FicWad

“Come on, Frankie,” he repeated, still tugging on my arm like an incessant child.

I pulled my limb out of his grasp. “You don’t want to.”

“For fuck’s sake, Frank, I have no friends as it is. Can you just pretend to be mine for the next goddamn hour? I’ll walk you home after... just… I told you I was sorry… what the fuck is wrong?”

“Nothing.” My knees were shaking by that point, trembling so much as to keep me from balancing very well, and I felt like if I didn’t escape to the safety of my home soon, that the bones in my legs would splinter and snap. And I would be left in the grass, a pile of broken limbs.

One person was vaguely showing an interest in me and I was fucking it up already. Why couldn’t I hold a decent conversation and just suck it up and accept the fact that I was socializing? Why couldn’t I just be more confident? Maybe he does want to be my friend. He said he had none…

He’s using me.

No, he’s not.

Yes, he is. Everyone says they have no friends.

Shut the fuck up.

I looked to him, took in a breath, and said, “Okay.”

I walked over to the base of a steep hill and began to ascend, careful not to lose my footing. He was following close behind me and I felt a bit better because I knew that if I fell, he would be right there to catch me. As I reached the top, I collapsed, panting and feeling as though my legs were about to melt, seeing that Gerard felt the same as he sat beside me, breathing heavily. He tilted his head so his cheek was on his shoulder and he looked up at me.

At least now I had a valid reason to be out of breath.

“You aren’t that mad at me, are you?” He gave a weak smile and lay back on the flat ground, causing the dry grass to rustle beneath him.

I lay back as well, closing my eyes and trying to relax. “I’m not mad at you, Gerard.”

“I’m glad.”

And for a few minutes we remained silent, waiting for our bodies to return to normal.

It was peaceful, with our steady breathing the only sound filling the air; the cool, late evening breeze whispering over us. I looked into the darkening sky and followed an airplane’s taillights as they blinked erratically and flew across the wide open space.

“Frankie… I wonder about you. I know I don't know you very well, and I don't really have the right to ask you this, but is there anything bothering you? I could talk to you if you want. I really would like to be your friend. I just... I'm really sorry for what happened down there. I was just joking around, being a fool. Are you okay?”

I let out a sigh and sat up. He grabbed my arm again; the wide expanse of his hand curled around it as he pulled me back. “Don’t run away again.”

“I won't. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just not good with people.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t fucking know! I just get all nervous and I can’t speak.” I looked down and though I knew I was playing with the hem of my sweater anxiously, I couldn’t stop.

He looked up at me and kind of giggled and told me I was kind of fucked up, but it was okay. “Go on. I’m listening.”

I took a shaky breath and continued, “I just get really shy. I feel like I’m unworthy and no one should look at me… so, I stay away from people.”

“You feel unworthy?”

I frowned, not really knowing what to say. Why am I like this? “I guess it’s just because I don’t have that much self-esteem. I’m scared of everyone.”

“I can change that.” He smiled at me, a genuine, friendly smile.

I smiled back, briefly, wondering if I should question his intentions. Why exactly had he kissed me? “Why did you - um - before…” I gestured desperately so he would understand, but only managed to further prove that I was a nervous spaz.

“What?”

“Down there… you kissed me…”

“Oh! That. I was only proving a point: that you are, in fact, gay.” And yet again he showed his itty bitty baby teeth, eyes glittering, but it only lasted a second, before he frowned. “I said I was sorry.”

“Ah, no, it’s alright… I was just wondering. So, you kissing me makes me gay, then? How the hell does that work?”

“You know, if we’re gonna be friends, you can’t be lying to me about things like that.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, Gerard. Are you?”

“Am I what, in love with boys? Yes.” He was grinning widely and staring at me.

Holy fucking shit, I thought, he’s going to eat me, or something.

“What the fuck? Stop staring at me.”

“You’re so gay, Frankie.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

He stood up and made a limp wrist and started to strut around, saying with a lisp, “I’m Frankie! And I like it up the ass! And I carry a purse, and lipstick, and the boys just -”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I tackled him from behind, trying to push him over, but he was stronger than I had anticipated and kept his ground.

“Fuck you, Gerard!”

He was laughing like mad and he was trying to throw me off, but I held on tighter and wouldn’t let go. I had my arms around his middle and my body was tight against his; I could barely reach around him since I was a few inches shorter. I kept pulling him to the side, hoping to throw off his balance but nothing was fucking working. I was shit at fighting. He wriggled around, but I held on tighter, trying hard to knock him over. Suddenly he whipped out of my grasp and turned around, grabbing my arms and pinning them at my sides.

He gasped for air and I could feel his hot breath on my face. He said, “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were just trying to fuck me like an animal.”

I made a weak attempt at punching him in the arm. “Bite me.”

The next thing I witnessed was him taking my hand up to his mouth, where his teeth are located, and then his mouth opened and my finger was between his teeth as he bit down ever so gently.

“Happy now?”

My jaw dropped, my eyes narrowed and I just stared in shock and awe from him to the indentations on my finger, back and forth.

“You actually bit me.”

“You told me to. I like to bite.”

I gave him a funny look, to which he shrugged, and sat back down.

I joined him but couldn't think of anything to say.

“You know how you said you have no friends?” I asked, breaking the silence after a long lull in conversation. It was getting really quiet and making me uncomfortable.

“Pshh, I have friends.”

“Then why did you tell me you didn’t?”

“I hadn’t really met you, yet, Frankie.”

“…”

Oh. Damn.

“We’re gonna be friends, okay? Don’t worry about your -” he used his fingers as quotation marks - “social anxiety… you don’t have to be shy around me.”

“Uh, thanks?” I said, as more of a question than a statement, looking into my lap.

“Anything on your mind? You look a little sad.”

“No, I’m… fine. Um... thank you.”

I had a new friend. Maybe everything would be okay; maybe things would be a little easier to bear.

“We should stick together,” he continued. “Because all you can do is stand up for yourself, but life is so much better if you have someone to fight beside.”

“It’s like you’re reading my mind, or something, that’s so weird. That’s exactly what I’m thinking right now.”

He smiled softly and suggested we get going because it was late and I looked tired, that I should really get some rest and he’d see me tomorrow at school.

“Come on; I’ll walk you home.”

I yawned noticeably, my eyes watering and blurring my vision. I smiled and stood up, and we began our descent. He told me he would go first to make sure it was safe.

“Fuck, man, I’m not a girl. Besides, it was fine on the way up, so why would it be any different on the way down?”

He turned around and scowled at me, saying, “Fuck you, I’m just being nice."

I followed him, stepping exactly where he did, and landed safely at the bottom.

“I hate hills,” I announced as we walked through the park, both a little out of breath.

“Yeah, next time we should just stay on the swings or something.”

“As long as you don’t push me off,” I joked.

He laughed a little, and I guess it threw him a bit off balance or something because he walked closer to me for a second, and our hands accidentally brushed together before he moved back over. Neither of us said anything about it. We traveled on in silence the whole way, which made for a long walk. I told him he didn’t have to walk me home, but he protested and stayed at my side until I turned to walk up my driveway.

“Bye,” I quickly muttered.

“I hope to see you tomorrow.”

"You will."

And I continued up the driveway, thankful the lights were out; it meant my mom was asleep and she wouldn’t be asking me questions as I got in the door.

So, things had been adequately uncomfortable.

I quietly turned the doorknob and entered, cautiously removing my shoes and padding down the hall into my room. I didn’t bother brushing my teeth because I did before I left and I hadn’t eaten anything, so I reasoned they were still clean. I shut my door and changed in the darkness, careful not to make any noise. I didn’t want to wake my mom.

I left the door closed and crawled into my bed, settling under the blankets and trying to find a desirable position. I lay on my side, hands curled beneath the pillow as I stared out at the wall. Strips of light would scan over the ceiling as cars passed my house, but I barely took notice of it.

I could only think of Gerard, my new friend, hopefully a confidant and someone to help me get better.

He had fucking kissed me. I had my first kiss! It wasn't exactly romantic or
beautiful or even significant of anything... he said he was proving his idea that I was gay. I still was not quite sure how that worked; but he kissed me all the same.

“Please Gerard,” I whispered aloud, “be the one to save me.”
Chapter 3
As I ate breakfast the next morning, I thought about the previous night obsessively, to the point that my stomach was so upset from nerves that I couldn’t eat anymore.

I took a final swig of peach juice and rinsed out my dishes, wondering to myself, What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I so nervous? He’s just… a person. He has the same goddamn anatomy as I do and he’s a human, a thing that thinks and feels and eats and lives, just like me, so if he’s just like me, then why the fuck do I feel so nauseous?

When I opened my closet doors, I stood there for a little longer than normal. I knew I had to get my ass in gear because I would miss the bus. I just stood there, though, my body twitching with frustration as I looked over my selection of clothing. I wanted to look special, because I knew - hoped desperately - that Gerard and I would spend the lunch hour together.

With nothing catching my eye, I angrily grabbed a Def Leppard t-shirt and a hoodie to keep warm. Who the hell even listens to Def Leppard, anyway? If Gerard saw that shirt he’d laugh in my face.

It was some stupid phase I had gone through, but even now that it was over, I still had that goddamn t-shirt. I decided to turn it inside out so that if I saw him and took my sweater off, he wouldn’t be able to read what it said.

Once I was in the bathroom, I stood looking at myself in the mirror. I had grown quite used to going through that routine each morning.

My skin was this nasty material that just hung off my bones in a way that didn’t really bring out my eyes, or my lips, or anything. It was just there. Everything about me was so plain. My eyes were an unexciting green-brown; I could not determine exactly, and they were too close together, anyway. I wanted them to be further apart so that it balanced out my cheeks and chin. I didn’t have a very defined jawline. I didn’t have a double chin, but it looked like I had too much skin.

I hoped that by growing my hair out it would cover up my dramatic eyebrows. It probably looked like I got them done somewhere, or something, because they had this high feminine arch that I fucking hated. And they didn’t seem to flow well with the contours of the rest of my face – my eyes were large but not in the way I wanted them to be, and my nose was this raised piece of bone that I wanted to scrape off. It would just be sticking out and I could see it out of the corner of my eyes and it pissed me off.

And I knew, as I gaped in disgust at what stared back at me from the mirror, that I needed to look absolutely fucking beautiful that day because I wanted my new friend to find me attractive.

The only problem was that I didn't know how to change or fix the problems. I had great difficulty identifying exactly what had to be done to make myself presentable. I knew that if I were to use my mom’s makeup, I would definitely have the living shit beaten out of me. I didn’t want to look like a girl, anyway. I just wanted to look better.

Hurriedly, I brushed my teeth, still debating what to do. As I rinsed and spat, I noticed that my hair was wavy in the all the wrong places. Not where it would fall nicely if I shook it, or in such a way that it took away from my hideous eyes to make them look slightly more appealing. It was dark brown, boring, and sticking out and dipping in places and I was thoroughly pissed the fuck off.

Something needed to be done. There was nothing I could do about the eyebrows, or my naturally coloured lips, or even my lemur-like eyes, but there had to be something I could do about my hair. And then it came to me: I could use my mom’s hair straightener.

I grabbed it from the cupboard and plugged it in, then assessed my hair. I didn’t have a whole lot of time so I needed to focus on the worst of it. I had to be perfect. I carefully separated my hair into small sections, squeezing them between the hot plates.

No. Not good enough.

There was one piece at the front left that wouldn’t go pin straight and so I tugged on my hair in frustration, almost burning myself in the process. I knew I didn’t have time for such a task; I needed to catch the school bus. Disappointed with my underachievement, I unplugged the straightener and wrapped the cord around it, putting it back into place so my mom wouldn’t know I had used it.

I grabbed my bag and went out the door, locking it behind me, praying to God that I hadn't missed the bus.



During lunch hour, I hadn’t seen him, and I thought he might not even have been at school. I sat there shaking and fretting, waiting for him to walk through those doors, looking for me. But it didn’t happen. I was a little let down but I knew that it would have been really awkward anyway.

It wasn’t until after lunch that I was at my locker and heard my name.

“Hey, Frank.”

Fuck.

I pretended to have been bending over looking for something so that when I turned around to face him it would look like I just had a blood rush from bending over, because I was definitely not blushing. “Oh, hey.”

He smiled softly and looked down as I closed my locker, then looked back up at me, shaking the hair out of his face. “What do you have right now?”

“Geography.”

“Oh. Wanna skip with me?”

Can someone please wake me the fuck up because this is not fucking happening! My eyes darted around, looking for a temporary distraction from his presence. I found nothing, and faced him again.

His jawbone was distinct and sharp, and drew a nice, even line around the bottom of his face. His hair fell loosely, but it didn’t look like he had tried hard for it. His eyes really stood out, I could easily tell they were green and I bet he didn’t stand in front of the mirror each morning trying to define their true colour, only to be reminded of a muddy swamp.

His eyebrows were masculine and thick, and were just … there, above his eyes, giving him no specific expression. But if he were to raise them, or scowl, you would be able to tell what he was feeling. My eyebrows made me look as though I were constantly putting on the sexy-pouty face, giving someone the suggestive eyes. Like a fucking woman model, or some shit.

I felt very inadequate, but did wish to skip with him. My heart was racing, pounding so hard against my ribs I thought they were sure to crack.

“I don’t know… my mom might get me in shit.”

“She doesn’t have to find out. Come on. If she does, blame me. Or say you had a supply who forgot to take attendance or something.”

“Don’t you have class right now?”

He shrugged. “Not if you don’t.”

I pondered it for a minute, but before consequential thinking could have a say, I agreed and asked him what we were gonna do. If I was going to get lectured, it may as well have been worth it.

Well, of course it was going to be worth it. Even though I’d probably keep fumbling over my words and blush profusely, it would be so worth it.

While we walked out the doors to the car lot, we heard the bell ring and I felt a slight twinge of guilt for skipping class. I left class often, and for long periods of time, but I had never actually skipped before.

He told me we were just going for a drive. I had a very sudden change of heart. I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking cool I looked. People in the school would look outside and see me walking to a car and not going to class, and that I was with someone, which meant I had friends.

He led me to a silver car and got in the driver's side. “It’s unlocked!” He called out from inside the vehicle.

I opened the door and waited, as he grabbed a few articles of clothing from my seat. The muscles in his neck strained as he turned around and threw them back there, and he let out a soft unh. There was something quite sexually arousing about the way he carried himself.

Before I sat down he glanced up at me and shot me a quick grin. I got in and put on my seatbelt, admiring the way his wrist twisted when he put the keys in the ignition. We pulled out, and I really wanted to stop staring but it was fucking difficult.

What the hell, all he was doing was driving, but the way his eyes squinted as he checked his mirrors and his hand rested on top of the steering wheel had me staring, astonished, and wanting to jump on him.

I tried to look out the window and focus on the road signs or buildings, but I’d keep looking over at him and I imagined him throwing those clothes back into the front seat, to make room for me and him in the back. I couldn’t help it.

I rolled my eyes repeatedly, trying to mentally talk myself out of obsessing over him in such an inappropriate way.

The image of him just sitting there so casually, with his one foot on the pedal and the other spread a little to the side, was so simple and had nothing to do with sex at all but he was driving me wild. Maybe it was some sort of weird infatuation that sent little volts of love throughout my body. I didn’t know what it was; all I wanted to do at that moment was to fuck him.

He didn’t seem to notice me squirming in my seat at all because he drove on casually as if there was nothing wrong with me.

Well, it was quite obvious that I was attracted to that boy, but I wanted to clear my head and have intelligent conversations with him, not just sit there and dream about him when I knew that I'd probably never see that side of him, anyway.

Eventually we pulled into the parking lot of a 7-11.

“Gas station snacks! My favourite!” he exclaimed sarcastically.

His hand brushed my leg as he parked the car, but I pretended not to notice.

We sat there for a minute. It was terribly quiet and stuffy until he asked me if I wanted a slushie. I told him with a strained voice that I didn’t have any money, but he told me he would pay for it.

I got out with him and followed him into the store. We got our slushies, I blueberry and he lime, and we left, each with a large white cup in hand. Getting back into the car, he turned to face me fully.

“Your hair looks really nice today,” he said, eyeing it.

He reached over and I instinctively flinched, as though afraid of being hit. He grinned a bit and gently brushed the hair away from my eyes with his fingertips.

“You’re hot,” he told me, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “I can roll down the windows, if you want. Are you feeling okay? It's kinda cold out, today...”

I shrank back like the coward I am and took a sip of my slushie. Is this the part where he looks deep into my eyes and leans over and kisses me? That was another thing I envied about him – even his lips were so fitting to his features and complimented them. He was stunning.

My lips were too red and thin and bow-shaped, and I fucking could not stand it. His were almost the same shade as his skin, which was that of the eighty-eight piano keys; with a slight tinge of pink. And that made me realize that I looked much like a female – I had the eyebrows every woman probably spent a hundred dollars a month to have, and I had such red lips that I may as well have been wearing lipstick.

“I’m okay.”

“How do you see anything with your hair like that?”

“Haha, I don’t really know…” I shook my head, the fringe falling and tickling my eyes. Once he had mentioned it, it grew quite intolerable. “I’m trying to grow it out.”

“Oh.”

I looked over to him in case he would begin speaking, but he just sat there staring out the windshield. I turned to look out my window, my eyes artfully scanning over him.

We sat there for some long minutes, finishing our drinks.

“What are you gonna do after you graduate? I can’t believe we only have two months left…” I asked, partly because I was really starting to feel ill at ease in that car, and partly because I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. I needed ideas.

“Uh…” He inhaled deeply, and went on. “I’m moving out.”

My heart dropped.

“I’m moving to New York, hopefully to become an artist. Though I doubt it will happen. I have no portfolio or anything made up.”

“New York? Wow.” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice but it was so hard, because I could feel my spirit being weighed down by his plans. “At least you know what you’re doing with your life; I have no idea.”

“Most people don’t at this point. But I’ve just wanted to get into the city since I can remember, no matter what I end up doing. I need to get away. It'll be nice starting over somewhere new, I guess. So, Frankie, what do you like to do? What can you see yourself doing in ten years from now?"

“I like to listen to music, um… I sit in my room sometimes. I look at the stars and sometimes I watch TV. I read a bit, too. That’s pretty much it. I’m so boring.” I laughed. "Yeah, you know, I sit and stare at walls all day. It’s a hobby of mine; I like to count plaster pieces."

“Is that seriously all you do?"

“Um, well, basically yeah. My mom’s never home and I don’t have anywhere to go or anything, so I just sit and listen to CDs.”

“You should do something in music, then.” He had his teeth around his straw as he spoke, looking down into his cup.

“Like, start a band?”

“Or you could be a producer, or a writer… I have no idea. You could even manage a band someday. Try to get into something you enjoy, though, because you spend so much of your time at work that you may as well have a damn good time doing it.” He shrugged.

“You’re right, man. I think that’d be sweet… yeah, I’m gonna be a producer.” My face lit up and I smiled at him. “I don’t want a normal job. I hate it because all you do is work, work, work and make money, but where does your money go if you spend your whole life in a fucking cage?”

“Wow, that’s deep.”

“Haha, yeah… it’s just, I don’t know, I hate how life works.”

“Me too, man.”

“I think I listen to Rise Against too much.”

He cocked his head and looked upwards. “You were listening to them the day we met…” he mused.

“Was I? I was, too. Yeah. You remember that?”

His head swiveled in my direction, “Of course I do.” He was staring at me again.

I swallowed heavily and looked away.

A long, extremely nauseating silence filtered into the vehicle. It felt like everything had suddenly just died; there was no noise, and it made my ears ring. I moved around a bit, shifting to look out the window. I heard him fussing with the last of his drink and turned to him.

He looked down, then to the little digital clock on the dashboard. “Hey, we should get back.”

We drove back to school, and I was grateful that at least I had the noise of the car running to cover up my lack of speaking. His left hand was on top the wheel again; I looked out the window with my empty cup between my thighs, and my arms folded across my stomach.

Suddenly I felt my cup being lifted it out from between my legs. I tensed, and looked down, then watched as he drew his arm back and put the cup into one of the designated holders. I closed my legs immediately, trying to feign off the blushing. Jesus Christ, that sneaky fucker. I did not even see him moving towards me at all.

“You’re not one to talk much, are you?” his gentle voice asked.

I squirmed again, down into the soft seat, hugging myself tightly. “No,” I squeaked.

"I respect that."

The rest of the ride went on like that – me looking absently at the passing surroundings and him driving with his left hand.

Finally, we pulled back into the parking lot of our school. On the way to the front doors, he told me we should skip more often, because I needed to get out more. I laughed.

Well, my chest heaved and I giggled uneasily, but I really hoped it sounded like a nice, little laugh to him.
Chapter 4
Everyday of my life is part of this huge fucking cycle that I created for myself and I just can’t break free of it.

I don’t talk to anyone. Actually, I go out of my way to avoid them. I sit apart from my peers in all of my classes, I have my headphones on most of the time, and I evade eye contact purposely. That’s because I don’t want anything to do with anyone here at school. I just keep looking to the future when I’m maybe twenty-four or so and I’ll have my own life and meet all these cool people.

It sounds like I have a lot of hope. I really don’t. Actually, when I think about me living as an adult, I want to be fucking sick.

I’m perfectly fine with coming home every day and not having to go to work or pay bills. I wonder how my mom manages. We only live in a townhouse, but she’s a single parent and works as a secretary for some insurance company, and she never remarried after my dad died when I was eight. I wonder if she ever gets lonely. I hardly even see her most of the time, because she’s at work, I’m at school, or she’ll be out running errands and it’s just hard. I have no one to talk to, and I don’t think she does, either, except for the people at work.

When I picture myself with her life, my stomach churns. I really doubt I’ll ever go anywhere in life. I have no ambitions or dreams and no motivation at school, and I don’t really enjoy anything apart from listening to music and dreaming about a life where I’m somewhere far away from here, with lots of people who care about me and want to protect me, and I have a cool job. Not some goddamn intern for fucking big-shot office owner, either. I want something that will get me exposure. But as I said, I know no one and have no connections and don’t believe I’ll ever be happy, no matter what I’m doing.