Walking into school had become an awful lot easier recently. I reckoned it was the addition of Gerard to my life that seemed to overwhelm and live off my own thoughts alone, leaving the ones of worry and panic at first few in their numbers and by now, barely there at all. And I'm still not quite sure as to whether this is a good thing or a bad thing at all.

My mind had been absolutely run amok with thoughts revolving around Gerard and the way I wanted him so bad. I'd spent too long thinking about knotting my fingers deep into his red hair, and not the red that poured from my insides when Skully decided that he was having a particularly bad day.

I was thankful that Skully had found himself without bad days for a good few weeks now, as that would leave me with bruises that Gerard would question and in turn would not be particularly happy about the existence of both the bruises and the perpetrator. In short, I would not like Skully and Gerard to ever come into acquaintance.

It seems odd that Skully has just stopped now, so I presumed he'd simply found someone far more amusing to torment than I was. He'd probably gone for some freshman with kind of fucked up hair and a questionable music taste - he had a type.

I probably should have felt just a little bit sorry for the Freshman in question, but right now that was the least of my priorities, because for one, I actually seemed to be growing up - it was kind of weird and the whole thing had just sprung up on me, because I was no longer Frank Iero, the kid who got picked on and had no friends, with the dead mum and fucked up dad, who spent all his time in the woods.

I was now Frank Iero, with an odd but generally lovable boyfriend, who he was best friends with the brother of, even if they both were assholes on more than the odd occasion, with my music teacher as my best friend and a kid with far too much eyeliner that was kind of annoying, but served as complacent company.

I was making a life for myself, and suddenly the lives of others seemed awfully irrelevant, and I would be a liar if I didn't say that this was all down to Gerard. And I would certainly be a romanticist if I said my whole life changed because of him.

Gerard was just inexplicably wonderful, and I was fucking flat out, head over heels in love with him, and it kind of bugged me how he hadn't said it back when I'd confessed this to him, I didn't doubt that he cared, of course, I- Just, perhaps I was just being overly superficial.

The thing is though, that Gerard had completely changed my outlook on life; he'd changed what mattered, and the way I thought and felt - not just about him, but everyone, and everything, and to say that Gerard was important was nothing short of an understatement.

It's apparent, that Gerard has also made me a bit of loser, but who the fuck cares, and it wasn't like I wasn't one prior anyways.

I had always been a loser; it was just that before I hadn't been quite so proud of it. Denial is a horrible, horrible thing, though. I guess I know that now, after living buried deep within it for so long, not just with my 'loser' personality, but with my sexuality, my mother, my father, Gerard, just fucking everything, man, I'm a wreck.

The only bad thing about Gerard, though, was the fact that he was so mind consuming and just so overwhelming interesting, so fucking interesting that he'd completely taken up the entirety of my attention, leaving me wandering astray and now the corridor I avoided like the plague, and for a good fucking reason.

My downright stupidity was perhaps something I was still in denial about.

I thought perhaps if I left quickly and silently that I wouldn't be noticed and that I could easily slip away without the need for further consequences, but no, they were alerted to any disturbance in their lair at all, and that was how I would assume I'd die.

"Oh well, if it isn't Fag Iero." I winced at the unfortunately well-chosen slur; thankfully it went unnoticed, or at least I didn't notice any acknowledgement of my slightly out of place reaction to the word. They could be hiding their acknowledgements until it was most advantageous to spring their suspicions out on me, but come on, they were The Killers, I knew carrots with a higher I.Q. than all four of them combined.

His voice was recognisable instantly, so much so that I didn't have to meet his gaze and confirm my death sentence, not that the aforementioned was anything I would be at all inclined to do whatsoever.

"I think you may have taken a wrong turn." He pointed out the painstakingly obvious, because as if I'd wandered down to where they hung out to purposefully get my ass kicked, and I presumed a lot more than that as judging by the encounter with Mikey, they'd been practically set out to kill us.

"Yeah, I have, uhm... sorry, uhh... bye, Skully." And then my naive little head thought I could just dart away and be left alone; it really seems that they've left me alone for far too long.

"Not how it works is it, faggot?" He continued, smirking at me and gesturing to his 'cronies' to alert them from whatever the fuck they were doing - either discreetly jacking off or forging maths homework answers from unfortunate freshmen students. Perhaps that's why they've left me alone lately; they're probably better than me at maths, and since they're The Killers, that's really saying something.

And then before I could even move Vince and Ash had pinned my arms behind my back and Zachariah was pushing me against the wall, leaving Skully to casually stroll over and glance me down. He spat at me and when I flinched in response, he chuckled spitting in my face and with my arms held back I couldn't even wipe the disgusting substance from my face.

Fuck. Fuck this. Fucking fuck.

"I'm very sad to see that you've fucking bent Mikey around that little dick of yours." He scoffed, the others sniggering as their fowl breath hung over my ears, leaving me to wonder just how fucking showers I'd have to have after this encounter come to a close, well if it ever did, because with the very little it took to keep them entertained, we could be here for days on end.

"Bent, because he's gay." Vince all so helpfully added.

"Fucking faggot." Ash sneered, again finding his addition just so fucking hilarious. God, how can these assholes physically be this stupid, fuck? Most likely because they don't go to classes and instead spend their time fucking up the lives of unfortunate kids.

"I'm not-" I began to wrap myself up tightly in a cocoon of lies, before Skully cut my words short, clearly not at all interested in any argument I may have to put up - truthful or not.

"Shut the fuck up, fag." So I did, perhaps because that was definitely the smartest idea here. "We've haven't seen you in a while - it's been a shame, really. How's that boyfriend of yours?" Fuck. Not this again.

Did they have any other insult than the 'gay' one? Okay, the gay one was working to an extent, so I'd give them that, but judging by the fact that it's them I wouldn't go as far as to say that they had actually come anywhere near to acknowledging

"Mikey is not my boyfriend." I met his gaze firmly, as if in an effort to push the words into his skull.

"Then who is, fag?" His smirk spread like wildfire through the others.

"Yeah, who?" Zachariah tuned in.

"You didn't say that you don't have one, you only said that your boyfriend isn't Mikey." Vince clarified, leaving myself to wonder if I could bury myself alive within a school corridor, but honestly I shouldn't have worried about that as I highly suspected that was their exact intention here.

"Is it that music teacher fag?" Skully inquired, one eyebrow raised in a manner that could signify nothing but fucking sadistic amusement. "The one with the hair straighter than himself."

"What? He has an afro." Again, Ash's complete lack of intelligence made sure he didn't at all get the joke, not that it was particularly hilarious in the first place so it wasn't at all as if he was missing out at all.

"That's the fucking point, faggot." Vince snapped at him, rolling his eyes and presumably questioning the intelligence of his 'friends'.

"Don't call me a faggot." Ash let go of me and glared Vince down, leaving me with a gap to escape, and it would of course be extremely foolish to take this tiny chance, so of course, that's exactly what I did.

It was a fucking stupid decision if I was honest, but really I'd rather take my chances with escape than just condemning myself to their torture and general amusement, and probably a bit of toilet dunking involved too.

"Fag!" Skully called out after me as I darted to the end of the hallway, only to run right into Pete, leaving me to stop in my tracks and Zachariah to completely catch up to me. Fuck. Fucking Pete, man.

"Pete!" I stressed, my eyes widening as I gestured back to Skully. Fuck, I probably- okay, we'll maybe, could have made it if it wasn't for fucking Pete.

"Yes, fuck off, Pete." Skully stepped forward, taking the occasional rushed glance at Pete - he looked nervous, far too fucking nervous. "Frankie here needs teaching a lesson."

"Leave him the fuck alone!" Clearly Pete hadn't been acquainted with The Killers before, and really now he was just about to get a full introduction, their style, of course, which would surely include some spectacular events such as four kicks in the balls and six in the stomach and a rushed trip to the hospital by the school nurse who's only just figured out that perhaps if you're bleeding from your skull that's a bad thing.

"Shut up fag." Zachariah glared at Pete, wrinkling his nose at him, and looking almost concerned by the amount of eyeliner he had packed on today without a single fucking care in the world. "We'll teach you a lesson too. Won't we, Skully?"

Skully remained silent. Vacant, even.

It was fucking weird to say the least, considering that Skully was the general spokesperson for the group.

"Leave us the fuck alone." Pete continued, despite what common sense would tell anyone. I guess Pete was just a little different. Or stupid. Stupid works too.

"Okay." Skully bit his lip, finally releasing one word from his lips I thought I'd never hear, and one I ever questioned if I'd heard correctly.

"What?" I think everyone besides Pete and Skully was equally as confused, and for once I felt comfort in that, because as much as I hated the others, I was just glad everyone wasn't in on some stupid secret joke that I didn't get.

"Just fucking go, fags." He met my eyes in particular and honestly I didn't need telling twice before fucking sprinting off. This was a bloody gift from God. Perhaps I should get a little bit more Catholic now.

That still didn't settle just how fucked up that situation was, of course not. I honestly doubted that anything could, and that was fucking with me beyond extremes.

-

Mikey lay sprawled out across the steps leading up to the footpath out of school, his eyes barely open and I guessed he was nearly asleep, having found just about the one spot that remained undisturbed on the school field during lunch time.

"Mikey, you're never going to get that homework done if you're asleep." Pete reminded him, his eyes wandering over his almost vacant frame.

Pete was sat with his knees pulled up against his chest and his sandwiches laying on the ground beside him; they were mostly untouched, and I guessed that was due to the unnervingly pungent stench of pickle originating from innocently placed, triangle shaped, but of course evil, sandwiches. I mean, come on, triangles. Fucking illuminati, man.

Pete was utterly distant though; his eyes devoid of all colour, and his eyeliner even looked a little smudged. There was something else on his mind - that you could tell.

"What homework?" Mike finally pulled his eyes open, his words mumbled and slurred to even an annoying extent. Not that the aforementioned behaviour wasn't annoying in the first place, it was just that

"Jesus, dude, how fucking tired are you?" Pete exclaimed, his eyes widened almost in shock. "That homework." He added after a second, pointing to the clustered folder that lay abandoned beside Mikey.

"He's hung-over." I didn't even need to guess - I knew, after all I had far too much experience in the matter.

"Mmm..." Mikey nodded, picking up his homework. "Going to parties, having fun - you should try it sometime, Frank."

"How much fun are you having now that you can barely even stand up, huh?" I pointed out, not bothering to bite back a smirk, because I was of course right, as Mikey looked like he'd rather be six feet deep than here right now.

"Fuck off." He rolled his eyes at me, grabbing his homework and trying to write with the lid of his pen still on. "There's a reason I'm making sure you have a party."

"What? Because you like being an asshole?" I offered, eyebrows raised and smirk badly bitten back.

"Very funny." He snapped in response, beginning to scribble down something as fast as he could in the hopes it would get him a C- at the very least. It probably wasn't even relevant and his poor history teacher was going to have to end up marking an essay titled 'Why Frank Iero Should Get Drunk At His Eighteenth Birthday (Not To Fuck My Brother)'. Yeah, I seriously doubted that'd go down well at all.

"Pete?" The boy's completely frozen stance came to my attention, as I turned away from Mikey, having deemed him a hopeless cause.

Pete was utterly unresponsive, leaving me to snap my fingers in front of his face in a mediocre effort to gain some kind of response from him. "Are you even alive?"

He shrugged in response, his eyes still not meeting mine and not in a deliberate manner; he was looking straight past me as if I wasn't even there at all. "Who knows?”

"He's probably stoned." Mikey offered, unhelpfully, but at least, unlike Pete, he was somewhat responsive. "Get intoxicated, Frank. Seriously."

"I'm not stoned. I'm just thinking." Pete explained, thankfully not agreeing with Mikey, because I was really not in the mood to have my only two friends pissed off their faces when I'm trying to have some kind of conversation with them.

"Come on, to think about anything for more than a second you have to be stoned." Mikey rolled his eyes, looking up for his homework momentarily.

"What are you thinking about?" I went for the slightly, in my own humble opinion, of course, better approach. "Is it about earlier with Skully?" I offered into the silence, wondering just exactly what I was approaching here.

"No." He snapped out of his barely there trance within an instant.

And just as I thought I'd set him off, the conversation topic turned around completely as his eyes fixated upon my neck. "Is that a hickey, Frank?" His eyes widened and I winced immediately as the tip of his index finger came into contact with one of the clearly bruised marks literally my shoulders and lower neck.

Fucking Gerard, man. Fuck.

"That's a hickey!" Pete exclaimed, almost giddy, leaving me with the unfortunate fate of catching Mikey's gaze as his eyes whizzed open and met with mine; the both of us in an unspoken understanding of just how the hickeys had come to be.

"Uhm..." I tried to explain this in a somewhat rational manner, but really there was no other explanation than the true and here the truth just wouldn't do, especially considering that Mikey was around to hear it.

And then before I could even think about avoiding Mikey's hate threats until this blew over, Pete had pulled my shirt off right over my shoulders and there was my fucking exposed and hickey covered torso, available for both of them to see, which was of course, fucking lovely.

Thankfully, the bruises I'd acquired from other, less enjoyable, sources blended into the hickeys and therefore weren't noticeable, or even worth noticing with the main attraction all over my chest.

"Give it back, Pete." I snapped gesturing towards my shirt, hoping I could cover myself up again before Mikey could count the amount of hickeys his brother had given me, but things really were looking unfortunately unlikely.

"Jesus, Mikey, respect to your brother." Pete winked at me and I swear if he hadn't saved me from getting fucking killed by Skully earlier, I would have killed him by now.

And if things could get any worse, Mikey simply walked off, sending a glare behind him as he left, leaving the homework abandoned as well, perhaps for us to do, which was something that wasn't going to happen, but I guessed that arriving to History next lesson without homework was the last thing on Mikey's mind.

"What did we do?" Pete's eyes widened, glancing between Mikey's figure in the distance; gradually getting smaller, and me, gradually shrinking back inside myself.

"He's still not entirely comfortable with the idea of Gerard and I, and you really didn't help things there." I explained, sighing and pulling my shirt back from Pete's now loose grip.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." I offered my halfhearted sympathies as I pulled my shirt back over my head and prayed that no one had noticed my little shirtless interlude. "Can I ask about earlier with Skully?"

"I'd rather you didn't." He butted in before I could continue, his eyes going cold momentarily before he changed the subject of conversation once again. "Mikey told me that you and Gerard are going to fuck at that party."

"Well I wouldn't word it like that, but yeah." I nodded, not at all sure as to why I was talking about this openly, even with Pete, especially with Pete.

"Mikey's said a lot about Gerard, you know." And here we fucking go again.

"Mikey says a lot of shit about Gerard, he says a lot of shit about everyone but that doesn't necessarily mean it's true, okay?" I met his gaze, emphasising the fact that fucking no one is going to fucking mess with Gerard and I.

"Okay." Pete nodded. There was an air of reluctance about his gesture, but at least he'd made an effort here, unlike Mikey. Very much unlike Mikey.

"Trust me, I know Gerard best." I promised him.

"I don't think anyone really knows Gerard at all."

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