You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison

Six. (Gerard's POV)

Frank was already out of the line and walking to the table when I got my food. I grabbed a napkin and waited for Brendon and Pete to get out of the line before heading to our table. It took a long time, since two guards were in front of them and they get premium food. They took their time, explained what they wanted, pointed at this, then that. The lady behind the counter just followed their fingers and scooped up a large spoonful of what they wanted.

When it finally got to Brendon, he got his plate and so did Pete. They picked up napkins and we turned to go sit down.

I didn't see Frank at the table, but a guy whose muscles and chest were too big for his head. I searched arond the caf for a little man with black hair. When my eyes saw him, he was on the floor, curling like a worm and being kicked hard in the stomach by another big guy.

I immediately dropped my tray, letting the chunky oatmeal slide off its paper plate and onto the tiled floor. I ran to where the commotion was and grabbed the guy from behind, struggling to pull his fat arms behind him and pulling him back. I called for Brendon, he was taller and stronger than me.

He raced towards us and did the same as me. Both of us weren't half as strong as him but we managed to pull him back at least.

"Save yourself! I'll hold them back!" Brendon shouted at Frank from behind him. Hey! I was helping too! Frank then desperately tried to get up and run away. His whole face was bruised and red. I even think his left arm was dislocated. He limped to the stairs and hopped up the stairs painfully. A black eye was forming on the right side if his face and his lip was cut where his piercing used to be.

I then looked away and let go of the guy. He looked at the both of us and panted.

"What're you babies thinking about, huh? Stopping me from beating the life out've that wimp?" He said breathing heavily.

"He's not a wimp. You are. Picking on guys half your size isn't something to be proud of, you coward. If you wanna look strong, beat ur buddy up, there." He said, pointing a bony and bleeding finger at the guy sitting at our table. Tough guy just looked at him, panting, and then back at us.

"I'll give you ten seconds to run as fast as your little legs can carry you. Lock your doors, I'm coming for you." He snapped, a cut on his cheek bleeding from me clawing at him.

I spat at his shoes as Brendon started walking away.

We walked back to our cell to see Frank, conserving our pride.

I shoved open the door and saw Frank sitting on the floor, leaning on his bed.

"I-I trie being brave... I..." He studdered, sweating and holding his hand against his bruised chest.

I sat next to him.

"He-I... I can't do it. I can't handle being here." He made out between large breaths.

I wrapped my arms around him and sighed. What else could I do? Yeah, tell him it was all gonna be okay, but it wasn't, so I'd be lying. I don't lie.

"I'm sorry for being like this Gerard..." Hearing him say my real birth name was beautiful. The whole word rolled off the tip of his tounge. The "Ger" was at the back and "rard" floated back to the front and spilled out marvelously. I had a habit of counting everything. How much times people said my name a day, how many steps I took to go up and down flights of stairs, how long it takes me to read a page of a book. I do it without noticing.

The same why I always go to the stall at the very back whenever I go to a public bathroom or changing room. I also leave a bit of my food each time I finish a meal, well I never quite finish it because of that little piece but I'm always full before it reaches my mouth.

I looked into his watercolor eyes and smiled.

"You did nothing wrong, Frankie. You tried. Sometimes, being brave doesn't mean doing the impossible or being completely reckless. Sometimes, it's just standing up for yourself, like you just did. Though when you're up against someone twice your size, maybe even more, staying low profile is brave too.

I felt him nod and sniff against my chest. Oh god, he was crying. I hate it when people cry and I hate crying. I also especially hated seeing him cry.

"Sorry." He sobbed. I just looked up at the ceiling and twirled my fingers through his hair.

"Its okay." I whispered. Caught in the moment, I tilted my head and kissed his forehead. Wrong move.

He raised his head to look at me. The second he realized what I had done, he bolted up and backed away with a terrified look in his eyes. He parted his lips to say something, but he was in too much shock to speak. He just shook his head his mouth still open, got up and stormed out the door.

As the door slammed behind him, I felt the heavy feeling of regret filling my throat, lungs and clogging my windpipe. I fell to my side and started to sob. What had I done?
I'm gay. I know that. He didn't and I might've just confused him so bad.

I buried my head into my pillow, making it so wet the farbic started to stick to my nose and mouth. If only I could go back five minutes, Frank wouldn't have left angrily and I wouldn't be crying into my pillow like a 4 year old girl that didn't get the barbie doll she wanted.

I had just ruined any possible chance of making a friend, no matter how cheesy that sounded.

I wondered what he was doing while I cried my eyes out. Probably spilling everything out to Brendon or something. It seems like a sort of this Frank would do.