Folie a Deux

I don't know how long I sat there after Gerard left. I would like to say it was only five minutes, but I'm ashamed to admit that it was probably about an hour before I left the diner.

I was just really confused.

I sat there forever just trying to figure out what I had agreed to- meeting him here tomorrow, at five. Same time as today. The rest of the time was spent wondering what on earth had actually just happened.

I'd had a bad day, I knew that much. The people at my school weren't exactly the kindest, and the lockers aren't exactly the most comfortable things to be slammed into, either.

Something about that boy, though... Something about Gerard just comforted me a bit. If he could be so happy and outgoing, why couldn't I?

"Frank?" Sandra, the waitress, asked, making me jump. "Would you like something to drink?"

I shook my head, trying to shake away the surprise. "N-no. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well, call me if you need anything..."

"I will."

She walked away and I turned my gaze almost automatically to the door, the last place I had seen the bright bob of unnaturally red hair.

"I'm not giving you my full attention, Frank. I have a million things on my mind right now, and you're just a stranger at a coffee shop who looked lonely. You're the least of my concerns."

It didn't seem to me like I was the "least of his concerns." He seemed to be extremely focused on me, especially for having just met me for the first time.

Or maybe he was just a good multitask-er. I wouldn't know, because I had never been one. I'd proved that this morning when I tried to balance my school books while walking away from the kids who liked to call me names.

I was vaguely aware of the fact that it had started to rain outside, a light mist fogging the restaurant windows and blurring my vision of the outside world. I both liked and disliked the fog- I liked how it hid me from the rest of society, but I hated how it clouded my interpretations of the people and places around me.

I decided that I should try to get home before it started raining too hard... And before my mom freaked out and called the cops. And before the kids on my block realized that I wasn't home yet and started waiting at the corner of the street for me.

No, then my mom would definitely have to call the cops. I could almost see the news articles in my head... "Local teen boy, found beat up and crying on the corner of Pamlin and Lancer streets, attacked by teens from his neighborhood. No weapons were found at the scene of the crime, so it is believed that it was a fistfight gone completely bad. Boy suffers from both severe physical and emotional damage."

I could almost see myself laying on the street corner, black-eyed and bloody-nosed, sobbing and screaming and hurting more on the inside than out.

It was a fairly easy image to conjure, considering it had happened before. I'd never made news headlines, but I figured eventually I would...

I mean, one day they would beat me to the point of death, and then of course people would have to notice, right?

No one ever cares unless you're famous or dead.

One day I think I'll just stop fighting back. One day I'll have enough of the kids who beat me up and I'll just let it happen.

I stood up and left Sandra's tip on the counter as well as the money for my soup, nodded a quick goodbye, and then headed out the door, ready for the dreaded walk home.

My mom hated when I left for more than a few hours at a time, and she was probably standing by the door waiting for my arrival. She was convinced that one day I would leave and never come back... Something I was actually beginning to consider. If I never came back I'd never have to deal with her or with the kids who waited on the corner for me.

If I ran away and never looked back, I'd be ten times better off alone than where I was now. Sometimes I think that daily life can drive you to insanity. Taking a break just felt so nice sometimes... And hadn't Gerard just proved that? Meeting him and experiencing that admittedly weird conversation almost made up for being shoved against the lockers this morning and being called words that I'd never even heard before.

My fingers popped up my hood and then curled into my jacket pockets, a subconscious habit that I had had for quite some time now. I didn't know why but having a fist curled up, ready to punch in case of danger, made me feel a little safer.

I glanced both ways before crossing the street, focusing on the sound of my footsteps, trying to to figure out if that echo was someone behind me or if it was just my own footsteps bouncing back through the air.

When I got to the other side I felt a sense of nausea sweep over me. What if those footsteps hadn't been the echo of mine? What if someone was behind me?

Before I knew what was happening I was across the road and standing with my back against a wall, breaths coming out a million times too fast and my heartbeat pounding. I could hear the blood flowing in my ears.

I couldn't stop the "what if?" questions racing through my head.

What if there was someone behind me? What if they were one of the kids from my neighborhood? What if it was someone from school? But... But what if it wasn't? What if... What if it were someone- or something- worse?

I glanced both ways down the street and across the road. I could see through the windows of the diner- Rockin' Comet, it was called- and through to Sandra. She was putting dishes in a bin to take to whichever employee had dish-washing duty. She didn't look up, she wasn't staring across the street... She would have known if something bad had happened. Sandra was a trustable person, she would have heard if something was going on outside.

Sandra would have known and she would be panicking, calling out to me, warning me.

She wasn't though, so I was safe. Nothing was wrong.

I took a few deep breaths, assessing the situation. I was at the corner of the road, with my back to a brick wall, the awning protecting me from the late autumn rain. I found myself looking up and over at the signs of the little row of shops that I was next to. I had passed the signs all the time, but I'd never really stopped to read the names... How was it possible that I knew so little about my surroundings? What if I had to hide from something? I could've been in danger and not have known where to go!

Why have I never bothered to go into any of these stores?

I made a mental note to myself that I would have to check out the stores tomorrow after lunch.

I felt my chest weigh itself down a bit as I started my journey home, picking my way down the street and keeping my fingers curled tight in my pockets.

I couldn't help but think of all of the stupid rules my mom had and how I was probably breaking at least three of them at this very moment... There were so many pointless rules that she created, and I'm almost positive that most of them were made only to lower my self-esteem.

There was absolutely no eating after nine o' clock- don't want me getting any fatter, now do we?

And there was never any chance of me staying up past ten- don't want me getting any more tired, right? I'm already as drowsy and slow enough as it is?

Oh, and of course, no fun until my homework is compete- there shouldn't be a chance of me getting any more stupid than I already am, according to my mom!

And then there were the arguments over my diet...

My mother hated the fact I was vegetarian.

She hated the fact that I had a C average in school.

She hated the fact that I owned a guitar.

She hated the fact that every Friday I went to the diner just to get away from her and the kids in our neighborhood and from the pictures of my dad for a few hours.

She hated me, and everything I did, and tried to change just about everything about me.

It was always, "I hate how you cut the fingers off of your gloves, Frank... But here, let me buy you some new ones!" New ones? New ones that I'll never use, that is.

Or, "I hate how you wear your hair, let me take you to the barber shop!" And I'll always just change it back to something I like as soon as I can.

Sometimes it was, "I hate how you dress so sloppily, let me buy you some new clothes!" Which will only end up in a pile at the foot of my bed... Like always.

And she was always complaining about my music, too. "I hate how you listen to such loud and violent music, let me introduce you to some classical music!" You mean music that will put me to sleep in about five minutes? How about no?

And the one topic she always managed to squeeze in... "I hate how you're so anti-social, let me introduce you to some friends!"

And increase my social anxiety problems...? Thanks, mother.

Sometimes I really hate you, too.

Glad to see that the feeling is mutual.

　

---

　

"Yo, Frankie!"

I felt myself cringe away from the nickname. "Hello, Ross."

He fell in step next to me and even though he was all that I could see him from the corner of my eye, I kept my gaze focused on the street in front of me.

"You're getting home awfully late, kid. Where ya' been? On a date?" He laughed at his own joke for a few seconds. "Never mind, don't answer that."

"I was at the diner," I spat, glaring at Ross.

Ross was the kind of kid everyone liked but everyone hated. He was tall, smart, good looking, but a total ass to be around for more than a few hours.

He wasn't exactly the most physical when it came to hurting me. No, no Ross was the one out of his little gang of friends who knew how to get under my skin.

"Again?" he snickered. "What, do they support fag rights there, or something?"

"Go away, Ross."

"Come on, it's okay if you're still in the closet. I won't tell anyone."

"You're an ass."

"Oh, you don't mean that... I mean, you've seen enough of guys asses to know that I'm not one."

I stopped walking and spun to face him. "Why don't you just leave me alone, jerkwad? You know I'm not gay. I had a girlfriend last summer."

Ross snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah and she dumped you for that Mike kid, remember? Mike Pedicone or whatever his last name is... And she told everyone all about how your dad ran away from your family the second you were born, Iero. Your dad was a coward."

I felt my heart sink. "Just leave me alone," I said again, my heart cracking.

"He was a coward," Ross sneered again. "And like father, like son. You'll never be anything but a coward. You spend all of your time cooped up in your house with that stupid guitar of yours. I bet you can't even get through a scale without screwing up. You'll never be anything but a screw-up and a coward..."

I started walking away, feeling my fists curl in my pockets.

"I bet you were with a guy!" Ross called. "Weren't you? You met some boy and that's why you took so long! Fucking faggot!"

I was running away, by now.

　

---

　

"Where have you been?"

I had barely shut the door behind me before I felt myself cringe away from her voice. It was just as unwelcoming as Ross's. "Out," I responded.

I dropped my jacket on the front table and started making my way into my house, putting my hands in my back pockets and hoping she wouldn't notice the both the guilt and the annoyance that was quite obviously radiating from me.

"Out where?"

"The diner."

"Again?"

I stopped walking even though I couldn't bring myself to turn around. "Yes, mom." My voice cracked slightly. "Again."

"Were you with anyone?"

I felt myself falter. "No," I said, choking on the word.

I wasn't with anyone. Gerard wasn't anyone. He was just a stranger in a restaurant.

She caught the pause, though, and acted on it immediately. Sometimes I hated how well she could read me. "Are you sure?"

"No," I whispered, turning to face her.

She stood in the hall by the kitchen door, arms crossed, black hair strewn up in a messy bun and green eyes narrowed. "Then who were you with?"

"A friend."

"Boy or girl?"

Boy or girl? Did it matter? Like she always reminded me, I'd never get another girlfriend. I couldn't see why she was so concerned.

It wasn't like I had spent my Friday afternoon skipping school and getting random girls pregnant, or something.

I wasn't like Ross or even any of the other kids at my school. I didn't have friends. No one had ever cared enough to waste away a Friday afternoon with me.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," she said instantly.

Damn. I had made her suspicious, now.

I let out a slow breath, dragging my hand through my hair. "I was with a boy. I don't know him or anything though, so you probably wouldn't, either. I just met him today."

There was a pause and she curled her already clenched hands a little tighter. "What type of person is he, then? Is he a bad influence?"

She was just annoying me, now. "Mom, I don't really know. I talked to him for maybe five minutes and then he left."

We'd spent five minutes talking, and I'd spent nearly an hour trying to comprehend the conversation... I couldn't help but wonder if he had thought about our conversation, too. If he had gone home and sat there staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out who I was and what type of person I was and wondering what we would talk about tomorrow during lunch.

"So are you and this boy friends?"

I shrugged, not really sure and not really caring. "Like I said, we just met. We're meeting up tomorrow."

"Where?"

"The diner."

She tilted her head back slightly, sighing. "Frank Iero I swear to god if this kid turns out to be some type of rapist or serial killer or something, I will kill you if he doesn't. And then I will burn your corpse."

"Gee, mom. Thanks."

Rapist? How the fuck would that even work out? But she said the exact same thing every time I made a new friend... Seeing as I rarely made friends, this was only the third or fourth time she'd done it, but still...

　

---

　

He was late.

"Hi, Frank," he said, slipping into the booth across from me. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," I said. "I didn't even notice," I lied.

He tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly as he slipped off his dark gray jacket, setting it in the seat next to him. "Are you sure?" He ran his hand through his bright red hair, letting out an unsure breath.

"It's fine, Gerard. Really."

He studied my face for a second and then decided that I must have been telling the truth. "How are you today?"

I shrugged, looking down at the table. "Okay. You?"

He laughed and I looked up as he rubbed his cheek a bit, one side of his smile higher than the other. "To be honest, I'm pretty fucking tired."

"What, did you not sleep, or something?"

He shrugged, dropping his hand to the table. I couldn't see his other hand, but I could tell that he was probably picking at his jeans or pulling at a string on his shirt. He looked like he was trying to occupy his mind. "You could say that." I noticed vaguely that when he spoke, he spoke from one side of his mouth. "My grandma passed away last night... I didn't really get any sleep at all."

My eyes went wide. "Gerard! Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Why the hell did you come today?"

He shrugged, offering another tired, apologetic smile. "I didn't want you to think I stood you up, or something."

"But-"

"But nothing. It's fine."

I sighed, shifting awkwardly in my seat. It most definitely was not fine. "W- were you and your grandma close?"

His face went still and when he spoke and he kept his voice extremely quiet. "Yeah."

"Oh, God, Gerard, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be," he muttered. He ran one hand through his firetruck red hair again, closing his eyes for a few seconds and just sitting there, sighing. "It couldn't be helped. I mean, we all die eventually. It's in the human nature to die. I guess her internal clock just stopped ticking."

I still couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He shouldn't be here with me. He should be with his family.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "Really."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing. It's not your fault."

"But you shouldn't have come!"

"But I did! And that's that. It can't be helped now."

I huffed, looking down at the table.

We were both silent for a few seconds.

From the corner of my eyes I watched as he rested his head on one hand, looking at me. "Thank you," he said quietly, his face blank.

"For what?" I asked, not looking at him.

"Meeting me here."

I looked up, blinking in surprise. "You're welcome...?"

He offered a small, sad smile. "If I hadn't come here I would have been at home alone with my brother. I mean, I love the kid and everything but... Sometimes I need to mourn alone."

I wanted to ask how on earth being with me was being alone, but I kind of understood. He just needed some time away from the family.

"I understand," I said, nodding. "I'm... I'm glad you're doing okay, though."

He nodded back. "It's nice to get out and take my mind off of things every once in a while. My grandmother... She had been ill for a while... And I guess I just need to get away from the memories."

I offered him a small smile. "I'm always here if you need to talk."

He smiled back. "Thanks."