Turn Away (Frerard)

Chapter 2: Needless Beatings

Art class began and Frank seemed like he would piss himself he was so nervous. I couldn’t quite comprehend why he was so nervous but I'm assuming it was because of those jerks from the football team.

I suddenly got a cramp in my stomach and curled in on myself, Frank looking over from his fingers, dropping his nervous expression and turning it into a state of utter concern.

That's the first time someone has been genuinely concerned for me in a while.

"Oh my god, Gerard, are you okay?!" He asked/yelled, his hands moving anywhere they could get as he didn’t know what to do. These cramps have become regular now, though. Out of the blue they started appearing everyday but I don’t think too much of it anymore.

"I'm fine, Frank, really. Just a cramp," I said, uncurling myself slightly to pat his shoulder. God, for someone to be concerned with me, I have to be curled over in a ball or dying.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're sure?"

"Frank, I'm fine, okay?"

"...Okay."

I rolled my eyes and got out my sketchbook, flipping to my drawing that I've been working on recently. It’s of a forest in the middle of a winter, a young boy sitting in the snow with tears in his eyes, the ghost of an old woman all in white standing next to him with her hand on his shoulder. 

The boy was me, and the woman was my grandmother, Elena, who passed away when I was 11. She taught me how to draw, how to sing, how to play piano, and basically she taught me how to live. I would lock myself in my room for days without leaving after she died, not eating or drinking until I ended up in the hospital from lack of food and water.

I was nearly done, just having to finish some details of the boy and some snow patches in the dead branches in a tree, when Frank looks over and sees my drawing.

"HOLY SHIT GERARD, THAT’S AMAZING!" He yells.

"Profanity, sir," Ms. Alora said, looking up from her book, eyes darting into Frank. 

"Sorry, it's just that his drawing is really good!"

Frank, I swear to god if she comes over here I will lock you in your locker and keep you there all night. 

"Let me see just how good it is for myself," she puts down her book and stands up.

Goddamnit, Frank.

I sigh and continue shading in the snow piles on the trees when I hear a small gasp from Ms. Alora.

I finish shading the trees and putting my signature and the date in the bottom right corner, looking up at her with an unamused look playing on my face.

"Mr. Way, that s magnificent! May I show the class and hang it up somewhere on campus?" she asks in one breath.

No.

I nod.

She brings the drawing (well actually my sketchbook) to the class and puts it on the overhead projector and rattles on about how amazing it is. Frank just will not stop smiling it me, and its ahrd to not smile back, at least a little.

"Gerard, will you come up here please?" Ms. Alora asks.

Fuck no.

I walked to the front of the classroom by her desk when one of the jocks shouted "Hey, look everyone, Gerard Gay!" and the whole class bursts out laughing. I rolled my eyes and leaned against the whiteboard.

"Shush, class! Now, Gerard, what do you call this piece?" She inquires.

I'm not telling you shit, you annoying little bitch.

"Ghosts in the Snow," I say quietly.

"Excellent title. I'd love to see more of your work."

Too fucking bad bitch.

I nod and walk back to my table, taking my sketchbook with me as I go.

***

The bell finally rings and I tell Frank where his next class, him scurrying out of the classroom as fast as his short legs could carry him. I stayed behind a while to pack up my stuff, as my next class was just across the hall. Ms. Alora left to go refill her coffee leaving me and the jocks alone.

Oh god.

"Hey fagface." One of them yells, and I ignore them and continue carefully putting my sketches away, as not to tear them. I then felt myself being lifted off the ground and turned around to see none other than Jake Moriarti in my face.

"Speak when you're spoken to, Gerard Gay." He spat.

"Fuck you." I said with every ounce of courage I had.

"Aw look guys, the fag is trying to stick up for himself!" He and his friends all laughed but Jake stared me down.

"Today is not your day." He dropped me and I fell to the ground. He and his friends kicked me, punched me, shoved me, and anything else you could think of. That would earn me more scars later. Ms.Alora never came back in, which I found out why once I got all my strength to pick up my stuff and leave after my needless beating was done with. I walked (more like crawled actually) to the bathroom, and examined myself. There were so many bruises and wounds I couldn't count them like I count my scars.

Needless to say, I skipped my second period to go get coffee. I came back for 3rd period and just hid in the bathroom or janitors closet all day. 

This has become too regular for me now. The beatings, the pain, all of it repeated daily.

Just like clockwork.