Heaven and Hell Start With the Same Letter (Frerard AU)

5

It's been a long time since anyone's said they loved me. I know he meant it in a friendly way, but I wish it was more.

I knew I was gay when I was fourteen. This kid in my class, Mikey, he was gorgeous. All the girls would drop to his feet with the slightest cough or raise of the eye. I had the smallest crush on him, but I ,of course, never confronted him about it. Ironically, the last I heard was that his dad sent him to church camp because he caught him with another guy.

"What are you thinking about?", Gerard says from across the room.

He's sitting on his bed, reading a book. Well, he was reading a book.

"Nothing, just...", I debate wether or not I should come out. But I decide against it, "about graduation."

It's not that I think he'll judge me, it's just, I don't want to be turned down. I'd be devastated.

"Oh. I think I'm dropping out when I get out of here."

"Oh?"

"I was in this band, before I came here, and the guys, they told me they'd wait, you know, until I got better, but then, then they sent me this demo of their new album. They found a new singer and everything. They even changed the name of the band.", he says, sitting up.

I can tell the tone of mockery in his voice. He's obviously mad, but I would be too.

He scoffs, "They're not even that good."

My hands are on my stomach, and tap in a steady beat against my skin.

"Why are you telling me this?"

He shrugs, "It's nice to talk about things that make you mad. It's been pent up inside me for a while. I've been looking for the right person to talk to since I got here, but not none of the other guys here like me, and the therapist doesn't care about what I say."

"But she's a therapist. That's her job, to listen, and care about what you say."

He rolls his eyes, "They don't care about anything but results. Which I guess is good, but to a certain degree. You think they really care about what I'm actually feeling? Sure, the first thing they ask you when you walk into the room is, 'How are you feeling?', but don't you ever realize that you have to make up an answer, or come up with something you think they want to hear? It's never the truth. Everything in there is so fake. You're either too scared to tell the truth, or you know you're not getting better, and the truth won't matter because you'll be dead before the therapist gets her results."

I stare at him. I've never seen him get worked up over something.

He breathes in heavily, "Sorry. I've just seen a lot of therapists. They're all exactly the same. I'm just sick of them."

I nod in reply.

"So what about you? Anything you want to say?", he asks.

Should I tell him? About my big secret? Would it even matter? It is a big part of me, so I guess I should say something.

"I really hope you're not homophobic.", I mutter out.

He looks puzzled for a second, but his eyes soon widen in realization.

"You mean you're...you're gay?"

I nod slowly. He stays quite for a few moments.

"Well obviously I don't care, it's just, you know...news."

I sit up and meet his eyes. He has such beautiful eyes. I could just fall into them. He catches me staring at him and he blushes a little. My heart beat picks up.