Frankie Fever

Frankie was still there when I woke up. He was sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling slowly. I smiled, tracing the shape of his lips with my finger. His eyes fluttered as he started to wake up. The first thing he did was smile.

“Morning,” He whispered softly.

“Hi,” I greeted back with a smile.

He smiled and snuggled into me, his arm draping over my waist. I could definitely get used to this. I snuggled back into him comfortably, holding onto his arm with a content smile. He hummed softly and kissed the side of my neck.

I was all set for my new life in New York with Frankie. We were going to build a new life together. Get jobs and find ourselves a new home.

We were there for ages. A good hour and a half. Lying in the bliss of each other’s company. And then Frankie kissed me. Tenderly, rolling on top of me, sliding between my legs. I wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down and causing him to giggle.

We giggled for a long time. Kissing and messing about and play fighting.

“I think I love you,” He suddenly blurted breathlessly, his cheeks glowing red from effortless tickling and overpowering.

My eyes widened. His eyes suddenly widened too. A moment of stunned silence that, looking back on it, was actually quite laughable. Both of us just gawping in surprise at each other, one terrified by what he’d just said and the other having lost control of his vocal chords.

Frankie flustered and tried to make excuses.

“I-I. . . Oh, God, I didn’t mean for that to come out, Gee-”

“I love you too!” I cut across quickly.

Another moment of stunned silence. His face lit up. Slowly, we began to smile at each other. Bright wide smiles. Teenagers always have that moment when they say ‘I love you’ for the first time to someone and mean it. When that happens, it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. You feel like you’re inflating with happiness and feel like a balloon about to burst with happiness. I never expected Frankie to tell me that; not in a million years. I’d longed for it but never expected it. My heart was his.

We giggled at each other and then began a wonderful, slow, long kiss. Frankie kissed the corner of my mouth and I ran a hand through his hair. Soft tenderness. This wasn’t teenage lust. This was love.

I smiled up at the beautiful boy and caressed his cheek gently. He smiled down at me and kissed my forehead carefully, as if he thought I was the most delicate and precious being in the world. As if he thought I would bruise if he kissed too hard. I was on top of the world with him. He smiled down at me, his eyes shining softly. I snuggled up to him, leaning up to kiss him. He obliged happily.

The sound of the elevator pinging stopped us in our tracks. Frank’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Probably a cleaner or something,” He mumbled “Please could you come back later?” He called out.

And then we got the shock of our lives.

Cops.

It all happened so quickly I can only remember flashes. They burst in seemingly out of nowhere and were suddenly grabbing us and trying to pull us apart. Frank cried out in horror and clung to me desperately as they seized him and tried to prize him away from me. I cried out, begging them to leave him alone. He thrashed desperately, trying to get free. I clung to him, crying out as he screamed hysterically.

“Gerard!”

“Mom?!”

“Oh, thank God you’re safe!”

As I was pulled into my Mother’s thin arms, Frankie finally gave in and pulled at the sheets to cover himself while I grabbed at the duvet. Mom looked across at Frank and suddenly down at me and her face twisted.

Oh God. How would I explain this?

I sighed and let my head drop.

“Franklin Anthony Iero, I’m arresting you. . .”

I didn't want to hear it.

Frankie was allowed to pull his underwear back on and dress himself before he was swept from the room by two officers. He tried to pull away, leaning back to see me. He cried out my name desperately.

“Gerard!” He cried helplessly “Gee, please help-”

“Frankie!” I called back, trying to get up and run after him but found myself stopped by my mother, father and the third officer.

He was gone.

Feeling so useless, I sat back and rested my head in my hands, sobbing. This couldn’t be happening! Everything was going to be so perfect. Mom brushed my hair from my face but I shook her off. I didn’t want her to touch me. It had all been ruined. My newfound happiness was gone; replaced with despair and ruin.

I sobbed, burying my face into the duvet. Mom stroked my arm uncertainly. I rocked myself slowly, howling harder and harder.

“Is this blood on the sheets?” The officer questioned.

All of a sudden, the anger came. Roaring through me like a vicious, flaming demon. A scream of despair. I swore like a sailor and began to beat myself over the head. I sobbed and sobbed while Mom and Dad both exclaimed in alarm. I hated myself. I was useless. I wanted to die. I couldn’t even help my friend. What was I good for?

Mom seized my wrists, trying to stop me. I howled in anguish and collapsed into my Mommy. She wrapped her arms around me and hushed softly in my ear as I cried. Through my wet lashes, I could just see Dad, looking startled. Like he wasn’t sure what to think.

“Gerard, did Mr. Iero hurt you?” The cop pressed.

I shook my head slowly. I hadn’t even noticed it before but there was the tiniest measure of blood on the sheets. The most miniscule, pathetic excuse of a bloodstain that had ever existed.

Mom’s grip on me tightened.

“So where did this come from?” He asked.

“Me.”

Mom froze.

“What?” He questioned.

“It came from me,” I growled “It’s my blood.”

All three adults were staring at me with the same expression of confusion. I wiped my eyes and sat up straight, breathing in deeply. I pulled the duvet further up my body, self-consciously.

Dad’s expression was changing to one of realisation. Oh no. His son? An ass-bandit? Oh God no! A filthy faggot of a son. What about the grandchildren? How could I get married like “normal”?

“You said Mr. Iero didn’t hurt you.”

“He didn’t,” I replied calmly “We made love together. Right here. In this penthouse. On this very bed.”

No one dared to say anything. I smirked. It felt good to be coming clean like this. People are always wanting the truth. Sometimes I think the truth is overrated. We always want more and more of it until we discover something painful to us or something we didn’t want to hear.

Truth, truth. I was starting to like the truth now, though.

“Yes, Mom. Yes, Dad,” I jested “You’ve got a big, fat, faggot living under your roof!”

I recognise now that my behaviour was completely irrational. I was behaving like a madman. Mom insists that she understands I was “stricken with grief, in shock from what was currently happening, confused from the previous night’s events and still recovering from the shock of discovering what Frank had done.”

Really?

I didn’t know I was all of those things. Huh, funny how parents assume they’ve got it all figured out when they don’t have a clue. When did Mom ever run away in the middle of the night with her best friend and then sleep with said best friend, wake up all set to start a new life and then have it all snatched away from her?

“Gerard-”

“Yes, Mom, I like men. I like men.”

“Mr. Way, please,” The cop spoke “Please, calm down. You’re not in any trouble.”

I burst into uncontrollable laughter. He thought this was about me getting in trouble?! People are stupid. There were bigger things here than me getting grounded. I could care less what punishment was inflicted on me for this.

My best friend had just been arrested. I was miles away from home in a hotel room where I’d just told my parents I was gay. Oh, yes, being in trouble was my biggest concern right now. Clearly.

“Gerard. . .” Mom stuttered slowly “Y-you mean it?”

I nodded bitterly.

“W-Well, I. . . uh. . . how long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, quite a long time,” I said casually “I’ve been kissing guys for a few months now, Mom.”

Dad’s eyes seemed to widen. He stuttered awkwardly just like Mom, gibbering like an idiot. Ah, power. Anger fuelled truth and power. Teenage power.

I was to be king of the castle now. I was the one that knew what was going on. I’d tell them what I wanted to whenever I wanted to. It was hard not to laugh hysterically in their faces.

“This is my fault,” Dad said slowly “This is all my fault, isn’t it? I’ve been so busy pursuing my own needs that I’ve left my son lost and confused,” He continued, slowly coming to sit by me on the bed “Gerard, son, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“Stop making this about you!” I spat “This is not about you. It has nothing to do with what you do with who, Dad. Why does everything have to be about you? This is me trying to tell you both something about myself. Is it any wonder I didn’t tell either of you when you’re so wrapped up in yourselves?!”

Neither spoke. Finally they were starting to understand to what extent they had been neglecting their children. They were beginning to see that their children were suffering while they focused on themselves. Their eldest son had been questioning his sexuality for six months and they hadn’t even noticed. For half a year.

Mom slowly reached out to hug me. A hug that meant everything. An apology. Assurance that I was loved. Reassurance that my sexuality mattered nothing to her. Everything.

Then Mr. Justice-Served-Cold had to ruin it.

“You mean to tell us that yourself and Mr. Iero engaged in sexual intercourse last night?”

I turned to him slowly, eyes like storm clouds. Darkness swirling around me like an energy force. I was a God. Of Wrath. How dare he say such a thing to me.

“Don’t objectify it,” I growled “You don’t know a thing about it. We made love. Don’t you dare objectify it!”

And I collapsed against my Mommy as the both of us burst into tears.