Love Like Summer

”Morin’, Sleepy.” Gerard cheered happily as Frank finally emerged from his room.

“G’mornin’, Oh Wounded One.” How ya feeling today?” Frank asked groggily, taking a seat across from Gerard at the kitchen table, where the older boy sat, sipping his coffee.

“Not as bad as I thought I would. I mean, I have a little headache and my ribs still kinda hurt, but it’s alright. And how are you, Frank? Are you okay?”

Frank sighed, shrugging as he picked up his own mug, not thinking once to thank Gerard. “I’ve gotten worse beatings then last night, of that’s where you’re going.”

Gerard tried controlling his now-growing eyes, keeping his composure. “Worse? Frankie, how bad? What did he do to you last night?”

“The usual…” Frank started. “Pulled hair, bitten, nails fuckin’ shoved into me, slapped or hit in some way. But, whatever. Sometimes you say no, and heaven help you when you do. Sometimes a blowj isn’t enough for those horny bastards…but, I don’t care. I brought it upon myself, so why should I complain?” Gerard had closed his eyes when the younger began to speak, those hew torturous pains were vivid in his mind, hurting as if they had happened to him yesterday.

“Maybe I shouldn’t talk about it…?” Frank offered in an awkward, almost frightened voice, the silent moment passing. Gerard’s eyes snapped open as he shook his head, clearing his throat. The action reminded him once again of that war veteran – lost in a mental battle with himself, over reality and memories.

“You really…you really shouldn’t have done-…please never do such a thing again Frank – please.” The older boy begged.

“Okay, Gerard…” Frank replied cautiously. Why had Gerard cared so much about him? He barely knew him – or the truly messed-up Frankie inside.

“How come I haven’t seen you around school? I mean, you’re so well-known!” Gerard asked lightly, trying to change the subject.

“Well, I actually spend a good percent of my time hiding from jocks and shit…and you and those kids – Bryar and Toro? – always seem to be preoccupied with something in the other direction.” Frank admitted a little ashamed of his behavior last night. Gerard smirked, shaking his head.

“You’re going back to school come September if I have to drive you myself. You’ll hang out with us, but if we’re gonna be friends, I will have you in school in the fall – you got that? Don’t forget it.” Gerard smiled and messed with Frank’s hair, standing. “I guess I should get home to Mikey…he’s my brother. He probably thinks I’m dead, otherwise I would stay.” Gerard clarified.

Frank, disheartened, stood and followed Gerard to the door “D’ya want me to walk you home, see if you’re really alright, make sure you’re safe?” Gerard smiled again as he carefully put on his jacket.

“No thanks, Mama Frank. I think I can make it. I wanna come over tomorrow, ‘kay?” Frank nodded. God, he had really made a friend.

“You got it. Tell Mikey I said hi and I’m sorry for stealing his brother. Bye, Gerard.” Frank said before shutting the door behind the older. So now, he was alone again. He sighed, as he plopped onto the couch. What to do now, he thought, what can I do now?

Why don’t you cut yourself, you queer? A voice inside his head told him Female, dangerous, maybe even insane-sounding. You’re such a failure. Gerard just wants you to stop so he and his buddies can use you. He isn’t you’re friend – no one likes failures. You’re parents showed you that, now, didn’t they? Frank sighed, knowing most, if not all, of what she was saying was true. He stared at the ceiling, trying to think of what to do. Maybe he could get a real job…?

No-one would hire a fatass like you. A new voice, male, now, and cocky-sounding, reminded him. I’m surprised you can still walk, you’re so damn fat. Look at yourself – he probably can’t stand to look at you. There is no Mikey -- but there is a Frankie so repulsive and grossly huge that Gerard can’t stand to breath that same hair as him.

“Shut up!” Frank yelled, covering his face with a pillow and lying down on the couch. No, these were not the voices which warned one of going insane – these voices were his conscience. They reminded him of his life and his choices and always reassured him that the world was out to get him. He had realized it was not insanity the first day he looked in the mirror and agreed with them, seeing the literally huge mess he had become.

I told you, Martin, the cocky male had told him, no boy would ever want to touch you. The conversation between him and Martin had ended in tears and puke – he’d gotten himself so upset – and Beatrice had been no help.

You’re a disgrace. She had told him, as tears came to his eyes again. You failure. You never mattered to anyone – not even yourself. And that was when he realized her words were true. Frank now rolled from the couch to the floor, the pillow still over his face. He got up stiffly and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He looked in the mirror – at his smudged eyeliner, at his messy hair his stained clothes. A face even a mother couldn’t love. Beatrice sneered. Frank quickly wasted his face, fighting to rub off his eyeliner, only to re-apply it aggressively. He brushed his hair and styled it just perfect enough for any boy to flip for. After changing his shirt, he looked at himself again, and glared. He would show the world what he was made of.

“A mother may not love me,” He said softly to himself as he walked out the door and over to the apartment next door, “but a grown man can’t resist.”

“Please never do such a thing again Frank – please.” As if blocking out Gerard’s pleas, Frank knocked loudly on the door, praying Max would forgive him.