High School Is the Least of Our Worries.

Frank.

I feel Gerard pause for a moment, surprised by the sudden change of mood, but I just continue to move my lips persistently against his. Soon enough, I feel him kiss back just as hard, if not more desperately. His arms remain pinned to the wall, his fingers fanning against the dirty beige walls as I force my body closer to his, as if he’s afraid.

I understand, and I cup his face with my hands reassuringly. Nothing’s going to hurt us, darling. I stroke his cheeks carefully with my thumbs and I eventually feel him relax as his face becomes calmer.

I smile into the kiss and immediately deepen the kiss, returning the desperate horniness to full volume. He moans softly into my mouth and I shiver, coaxing his mouth open with my tongue. I kiss him sloppily, running my hands up and down his perfect sides. I explore his mouth willingly, my taste buds tingling with the taste that can only be described in one word: Gerard.

Suddenly, my urges take control over me and I pin him firmly to the wall, leaving no gap between our slowly inflating crotches. I start to practically fuck him against the wall, throwing my head back to moan loudly. Gerard squirms underneath me, and I smirk as I realise he has no control over the situation.

I spontaneously snake my hands down to his belt buckle, and before he realises what’s happening, plunge my hand into his boxers. His eyes fly open at the sudden contact and he moans uncontrollably. I grin and wrap my hand around him, but my smile falters as I hear a deadly voice behind me.

“I always knew you were a fucking faggot, Iero.”

I look at Gerard, too scared to turn around. His eyes are full of fear, widened and his face is drained of colour. I can’t move, my hand still in his boxers, but no longer causing pleasure. I look at Gerard with pleading eyes. Tell me it’s not him. But I’d know that voice anywhere.

I don’t need to turn around.

Gerard.

My feet are glued to the ground, the wall sticking to me as if it were coated with toffee. Frank looks at me, and I know he wants me to tell him that it’s not him, not the one who he’s most scared of finding us in this position. But I can’t.

I look at him apologetically, with tears in my eyes, waiting for him to move. He’s in control; he’s got me pinned to the wall, one hand plunged into my boxers, although this isn’t all what makes me freeze. His gaze, his frightened, horror-filled gaze is what makes me stop dead in my tracks, his fright pouring into me.

Suddenly, Frank rips his body from my own, retrieving his hand from my pants as if it were on fire. I yelp quietly in surprise and fall to the floor, my cock hard and neglected.

“Brad,” Frank says, his voice rising slightly. Brad just looks at him coldly, a cruel smile on his face. “It’s not... what it looks like.”

“I know exactly what it looks like, Iero,” Brad sneers. “No-one really believed those rumors, you know. It was just fun to fuck with you... but now I know they’re real. You’re ruined, Iero. Real fucking ruined.”

Frank’s eyes widen. “No, no, really! Brad... th-this meant nothing to me, I swear! Ever since I dumped Courtney, I’ve had to get it from somebody. W-why not from somebody who can’t fight back?”

With every word, my face crumples. He’s lying, he must be, he wouldn’t say that, not ever... but he’s so convincing. Brad’s face is softening with every new point Frank says and I try not to cry. If he’s lying, he’s putting on some performance.

“He’s just an easy fuck,” Frank concludes and I clench my fists around my hoodie. He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it.

So, why did he go off with Brad, leaving me all alone on the ground?