Something I Could Hold Onto

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said, sympathetic voice barely above a whisper.

Gerard shook his head swiftly, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. "No, no," he gushed, "I want to." His eyes averted themselves from Frank's, focusing instead on the pine green napkin in his lap. "It's just… hard, you know?"

A shudder shook Frank's spine, memories of his own eliciting a pale spark of discomfort to overtake his small frame. Slowly, his head bobbed up and down in a hesitant nod.

Gerard's fingers went to work again, this time forcing the nails to dig into the fragile epidermis between his digits. He laughed, suddenly, a nervous chortle breaking the impatient silence.

"Man," he said, his voice thick and low. "I feel like such a dumbass right now." Sadness slowly crept into his tone as he murmured a shameful "sorry".

"Don't apologize," Frank replied almost instantly, wrapping his cold hands around the older boy's shaking ones. "Just tell me whatever it was you were going to." His thumb began forming soft patterns on the back of Gerard's hand, stopping momentarily to lift the boy's chin. "And you're not a dumbass," he said, putting every ounce of warmth and sincerity into his smile.

A similar expression overtook the taller of the two, fading only slightly as he stabbed a flimsy fork into the cooling stack of pancakes.

"I guess it started when I was fourteen," Gerard began, keeping his eyes cast to the cheap china plate.

Memories seemed to flood into the irises of his eyes, tinting the mesmerizing hazel with a wash of pained nostalgia. Frank watched as every harsh word, every cruel slur, and every haunting remark came rushing back, and almost immediately regretted carrying the conversation thus far.

He sliced a small triangle out of the stack before shoving it roughly into his mouth. "I came out to my parents on my birthday," he continued, a blush rising to his cheeks as the words were finally spoken. "And they weren't really happy about it, but they didn't kick me out of the house or anything." He paused slightly to swallow, and brought his gaze upwards to meet his consoler. "I could sorta tell they were disappointed, though."

A sympathetic frown replaced Frank's former jubilant grin; thinking of no better action, he continued to rub small circles on the back of Gerard's hands.

A weak smile appeared across his lips before it was wiped away as he wet them and began again. "My mom and dad would make stupid little comments every now and then. Nothing serious, but it sort of hurt at the time, you know?" He cut another slice of food, which he chewed more gently. "Anyway, after a year or whatever my mom walked out. No note, no call, nothing."

Frank could tell that Gerard was attempting to downplay the event by the way he simply sipped at his coffee and ate. Pushing the subject would only result in more discomfort, he decided, so he allowed the topic to slip by.

"After she was out," Gerard started, "it was just me, my dad, and Mikey. My dad, banal as always, figured that it was just 'the stupid faggot's fault' and went into a two year phase where he just hated me."

As much as he wanted to, no words appropriate for an interjection would come to Frank's blank mind. He could only sit and listen in a quiet disbelief.

"He got over it, though, when he met his new wife. Her name's Laura; I don't know her all that well, except for that she's hardcore Confederate and makes a mean Chicken Parmesan." He laughed slightly. "When they first started dating, my dad decided that he wasn't gonna lose another girl because of me. Behind closed doors, he'd still call me a fag and stuff, but never when Laura's around. He made me learn all this macho, clichéd, all-American male bullshit. Like fixing cars, for example," he said with a wink.

Frank laughed, remembering bitter-sweetly Gerard's first comment concerning his father not a week ago.

"Anyway," the boy stated, "that's pretty much the whole story." He downed the last of his coffee before placing his other hand on Frank's. "Sorry to go all Lifetime on you," he grinned.

The younger boy laughed along, privately marveling at how a person could endure that much humiliation and heartache yet still mature into such a sweet and uncomplicated person. Allowing adrenaline to take over, he leaned forward and quickly pecked Gerard's cheek.

A blush rose to his less than a second later.

However, instead of being met with the expected verbal assault or awkward explanations, Gerard just laughed. "Your lips have syrup on them!" he giggled, scrubbing at his cheek.