*Gerard's Point Of View*
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I've told myself this more times than I thought I would: I'm not a psychopath. I'm not a sociopath either, yet Frank seemed to be more than sure I was and left me like everyone else- just as I expected. Fuck, why did I even tell him about Lyndsey? I don't think I needed to vent about it, mostly because all of that happened ages ago, and I don't feel anything about it right now. I was naïve, insecure and even carefree back then- but the past is the past. Even if I don't tolerate anyone calling me Gee, I have no regrets nor pride towards what happened.
It's been a while since that day, since he walked out of my door, faint tears running through his fragile little scarred porcelain face. I can't remember why I stood at my kitchen's door- it was like I hoped he would stay. No one ever stays, so that couldn't have been the reason. In any case, I didn't see him at school for a couple of weeks until today.
I found him staring at his reflection in the mirror confusedly when I entered a school bathroom. The atmosphere in that boy division was tight and almost intense, and I quickly realised we were both alone- not that it was surprising, really. This one bathroom had infamy for being supposedly haunted but I couldn't care less, it was the closest to my next class.
Frank stopped staring at the mirror abruptly right as I walked into the room, making my way to one of the urinals in the corner. He spoke to me, his voice filled with a misplaced venom filled with instant regret:
-It's been a while, Gee. Have you learned how to genuinely smile now? – He looked at me, leaning against a nearby wall, his eyes attempting to pierce my soul with guilt. I tried my usual approach and replied while doing what I had to, avoiding his gaze:
-I haven't been searching for you at all, so try not to get your hopes up, Frankie. – It felt somewhat good to thank him for the venom he gave me when he called me 'Gee'. I'm not sure if I could count that as an emotion though- emotions are generally heavier than just a quick burst of revenge. At least, that's how I remember them.
-So we're not friends anymore? We're going to become strangers just because you can't crack a single honest smile on that pretty face of yours? – He turned to me this time and began approaching me slowly. Not like I was afraid of his sudden burst of passive-aggressive behaviour: He had brought this on himself. I told him, I even warned him that no one ever stays, that I can't simply smile, that I have no friends because of it, and that I think I'll die alone because of it, and that's okay. Even so, I felt this faint necessity to tease him, to play with his emotions, so that he would finally get the message I told him since the beginning. And so I answered, turning to him:
-You're the one who decided to walk out the goddamn door without closing it, Frankie. Why do you even care about me, let alone care about me smiling? I told you this before- I'll smile when I want to, and I don't smile just because my face allows me to. You want to make me smile? You were almost there, until you gave up halfway. Until you fell down the stairs because you couldn't deal with me and my attitude anymore. At least you got farther than most did, but the cold hard truth is, everyone just leaves me in the end. Do you understand now?
- No, I don't, and I probably never will. How can you not feel anything towards other people? – He pushed me against the nearest wall and held my arms half-violently and tightly. I wasn't in the mood to complain so I stood there and kept listening to him; it's not like he was hurting me, not in the slightest. And so he continued his angst-ridden speech – Even if you've been hurt in the past, every fucking normal person wishes to be happy, to wake up to a good day with the person or people they care about- except for you. You always seem to make an effort to see the worst in people, to not expect a thing from people. I can't say I'm an angel but you have to understand there are good people out there, people who can make you feel better and can make you smile again if you let them in your life. Now tell me: Tell me you don't want to die alone and unhappy when you have the chance to not be. Or are you a sociopath after all?
I could've lost my mind there. I could've screamed in his face, I could've hurt him, I could've done whatever because I stand by what I think: I'm not a fucking sociopath. I know that. And whoever thinks otherwise gets to join the "I left Geetard behind, I don't care about him" group. But I didn't do that. I started feeling this strong need to keep my cool, to not let my emotions show- and I couldn't quite explain the reason behind it. While I was pondering what to answer to Frank, he continued to hold me against the wall, piercing my eyes with his own. And so I answered his question with another question:
-Do you really want to make me smile? Than surprise me. Treat me like a fucking normal human being and not a sociopath just like everyone else. Do you understand now?
It all happened so fast after that. I felt a soft pair of lips held up against mine, carefully placing their passion as if they had never had their first kiss before. I didn't know how to react at the time: I sure as hell wasn't expecting that. I stared confusedly at his eyes, now closed shut, trying to explain myself why he would do this. After a brief moment it hit me- and so I pushed him away from me, launching him some distance away from where I was. I wasn't particularly angry because he did manage to surprise me in a way, but I was extremely confused- I was straight, but at the same time didn't entirely refuse a kiss from a boy...? It stirred confusion within me, but I couldn't take the time to reflect on it at that moment. I faked some sort of faint anger and stared plastic daggers into his regretful, puppy-like eyes as I spoke:
-Get the fuck out of my sight. Now.
He grabbed his backpack and ran out of the room without saying a word or glancing at my face. I was left with strange thoughts during the rest of the day.
