The Chasing of Moons

What. An. Idiot.

"Pete, have you heard the big news?" Brendon shouts from way too far away for Frank's comfort. He really shouldn't have said anything. This is going to get real dirty real fast. The only thing he can do to save his lie from getting out is to borough himself a million times deeper in that lie.

"You finally grew a chest hair? Brendon, I am so beyond proud of you," Pete says, walking over to them, and forcing Brendon to flip him off.

Frank tries to hide his face with the backpack sitting on his lap, but it doesn't do much to actually hide him. Frank's small, but he's not that small.

"You're so funny Pete, I've got a joke for you, go fuck yourself."

"You don't really understand the logistics of joke telling, do you?" Pete asks him, sitting down on the railing next to Brendon. Technically, students aren't allowed to sit on the railing, because there's this urban legend that seven years ago, some kid sat there, slipped and cracked his head open, but no one actually believes that and no teacher has ever enforced the rule so no one actually listens to it. Besides, it's spring, and no one wants to get grass stains on their jeans from sitting on the ground, so the railing almost completely full of teenagers who are balanced very precariously on the long arm of metal.

"Pete, that doesn't change what I was trying to say. Go fuck yourself."

"Well aren't you just the sweetest thing. So what is the actual big news then?" Pete asks, and Frank cringes because Brendon's about to spread his lie. Frank's terrified of this, he knows it's going to get out now, because Pete's mouth is as big as Brendon's ego. Also, Frank's not exactly a nobody, even if he would like to be, so people actually care about hearing gossip that concerns him, which is very confusing in his opinion as he can't believe he, the guy who uses a Mario toothbrush, is anyone who you'd care to know things about.

"Frank got laid," Brendon announces.

"Say it louder, would you?" Frank hisses at him, "My mom is only working across town, I think what she really needs is to hear you talking about my sexual escapades."

"You did not," Pete says, narrowing his eyes at Frank. "When?"

"After you... you left the bar," Frank says.

"Proof or it didn't happen," Pete says, crossing his arms, and Frank just shrugs.

"I don't have proof," Frank says, and sighs, because maybe it actually will blow over the way he's hoping it will. If Pete doesn't believe him than he won't have to deal with it somehow getting out. He really needs Pete to not believe him, that would be ideal.

Frank doesn't even know why he got himself into this. He should have just told Brendon that he went home and watched a movie or something. He could have literally said anything else, but he panicked. He couldn't help his tongue, it just slipped, and now he's fucked.

"Oh my god, you did, didn't you?" Pete asks, his eyes getting all wide. "You're telling the truth! Fuck it, man, we should've stayed longer, we could've watched it all go down."

"What? A second ago you said I needed to show you proof!"

"Nah, your face is giving it away, you actually did," Pete says, and shakes his head, looking, to Frank's horror, impressed.

"So wait, you just picked some chick up after we left? How long after?" Brendon asks, "Like, now I hate myself, we should've stayed longer, Pete, this is all your fault!"

"You met her at the bar? So you slept with an older woman?" Pete asks, "Congratulations Frank, you're finally a man."

Frank just cowers under the hair in his face and tries not to turn bright red at how awful this all is. Why did he have to open his mouth in the first place? Why can't Pete have a quieter voice? Why can't he be straight?