High School Is the Least of Our Worries.

Gerard.

I feel my heart tear out of my body. What the hell did that homophobic bastard say to him? I have to follow Frank.

I close my penknife and shove it roughly into my pocket, starting to run out of school. Who the fuck cares if I skip school? No-one fucking cares about me. Though sometimes, just sometimes, I lie awake in bed, daring to think that, perhaps, Frank cares. God knows I care about him.

I tear out of the school and run to my car, tripping up slightly but carrying on. I come to the car door and swear loudly. Some fuckers have keyed my car, the slices deep, with the word “faggot” stretched over two doors. I run my hand over it gently, my anger slowly building up. I let out a violent scream to the sky and pull the car door open, getting in and jamming the key in the ignition.

I speed along the drive, furious at everyone in the fucking world. Why can’t everything just be simple? Who cares if I love Frank… and yes, I do love him. So fucking much. But nothing’s going to be alright; nothing’s ever going to change. Everyone is just as close-minded as they’ll ever be.

Trying to calm down, I realise where Frank would be. I sharply swerve into a turning, heading for his house. I roughly jump out of the car, sprinting into the forest. I soon run out of breath but I keep going, my voice wheezing as I call out his name.

“FRANK!” I scream, looking around frantically.

I can’t fucking remember the way to the treehouse. I turn corners; I run through the bracken, feeling them slice my arm open. Blood pours from my arm but I don’t stop. I feel a stitch stab me in the side, but I won’t stop. I can’t. I need to find him.

I eventually collapse on the cold, muddy floor and call out his name pathetically one last time. “Frank…”

“Gee?”

Frank.

I look up from my place under the tree where I’ve been crying for the last 10 minutes. Someone or something has just tripped over the same thing I did.

I’m surprised as the person calls out my name, almost feebly.

I feel a jolt of realisation.

“Gee?” I question.

His head jerks up and relief fills his face. Relief fills my heart.

“Oh thank god!” I breathe as I practically lunge at him, throwing myself in his arms.

“How did you know where I’d be?” I question as he sits up, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Magic,” He whispers as he hugs back. I sniff slightly.

“Everyone knows,” I whimper. “Everyone knows and Coach kicked me off the team… said he can’t have a-a fag on the team because it ruins the reputation!” I splutter before bursting into loud echoing sobs. He comforts me, shushing me and rubbing my back.

“W-why are you here?” I manage to choke out, looking up at him.

“Well I saw coach talk to you through the bathroom window, and then I saw you run away, you looked upset so I decided to follow you,” He explains

“Why though?” I ask again, genuinely curious.

“Because I love you Frankie,” He whispers.

Oh yeah… shit

Gerard.

He’s looking at me, almost nervously. Why…? I shove the thought out of my head as I hold him close. Yet I can’t stop thinking about earlier.

Oh c’mon, I wanna know how Frankie is. It’s common knowledge that you’ve been fucking him. It’s all over school.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask quietly.

“Tell you what?” he replies, genuinely confused.

“That you and Courtney broke up.”

He looks up at me. He looks like he’s forgotten that he’s broken up with his girlfriend. How could he fucking forget?

“I – I didn’t think it was that important,” he says coolly, brushing it away as if it means nothing. It fucking means something to me.

“Of course it’s important.” I raise my voice, “Ever thought that I felt guilty kissing you and fucking you and fucking loving you while you still had a girlfriend? Ever thought that I have morals? Or did you just think because we were a secret, because you could never be seen with me, we would just think of it as something that didn’t really count?”

He’s looking at me, stunned. I hate him right about now.

“Gee…”

“And just because I may be a fucking fag, it doesn’t mean that I don’t think and feel the same way as anyone else.” I feel tears pouring out of my eyes and down my cheeks, only stopping as they hit the ground, “And, yes, I am a fag, and I’m fucking proud. Why can’t you be?”

He looks down to the ground. Ashamed. And he should be fucking ashamed.

“Goddamnit, Frank! Do you know how hard it is to love you?” I practically scream, shaking with frustration.

“Gee, I…”

I cut him off, crashing my lips to his, desperately kissing him. I have to show him how much he means to me.

I love him.

Frank.

I push him away from me. I know I’m not easy to love, I’m a fucking asshole, I’m stubborn and I’m arrogant. Courtney didn’t love me, she pretended to love me because I was captain of the football team, not for who I am. I can tell he loves me though, it’s obvious in the way he looks at me. I love him too, but I can’t tell him.

“What are you doing!?” I almost yell.

“If you won’t let me tell you I love you then I have to show you,” He says before attaching his lips to mine again, pressing me against the tree, straddling my lap.

“N-no we can’t,” I protest, muffled against his lips, shivering slightly as it starts to cloud over.

“Yes we can,” He says softly, wrapping his arms around me to keep me warm, attaching his warm soft lips to my neck, sucking softly.

“Gee…” I protest weakly, leaning into his warm arms. “This is wrong.”

“No it isn’t,” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss beside my lips. “It’s so right.”

“No” I whisper.

Yes…