Patron Saint of the Denial

Chapter Four.

I was, for the most part, confused,

After Gerard's retreat to under the table, he excused himself. He said he needed time to discuss something properly with this newly introduced "Mikey" character, who was apparently his brother. He then silently waved while rushing out the white-trimmed door, leaving me to finish my burger by myself.

I quickly wrapped up my burger and looked out of the door to watch Gerard cross the street, seeing only his wild hand gestures as they walked out of my line of vision.

I hesitated then scurried back to school, not wanting to miss the bus ride home. What I noticed most though, is that he wasn't taking the bus home.

Gerard's POV.

"Why the fuck did he follow you?!" I yelled at my younger brother, unable to comprehend why he hadn't called me when this first began.

"I don't know, Gerard! He's a client!" he screamed back. I suddenly felt sympathy for my little brother, he had no control over our stepmother's affairs.

"Well I fucking knew that Mikey, judging by the smeared cum on the back of his pant leg," I said.

I got no response in return.

Our stepmother, to put it simply, was a whore. A cheap whore who at least managed to make more than minimum wage. She "homeschooled" us during the day, which consisted of lessons on how to get her clients to the house without being disgusted. Some were male, some female, but all pitiful. Our father worked a day job, so he had no clue as to what actually happened from nine to five.

My dad though, took note of my hermit-like tendencies, and transferred me to public school. Hence, how I got here, how I met Frank.

Mikey continued his "homeschooling", and I couldn't help but to feel guilty. I almost cried the night before my transfer, just from the thought that I was leaving my own little brother in this nightmare.

For now, all I could do was hug him. Hug him here on the stoop of our small house, and wish we could be the average family once again.

Frank's POV.

Here I am, home alone at the house of family "American Dream." Looking at pictures on the wall, wondering where it all went wrong.

At this point I could be described as so many things. A raisin, a rebel.

Or as described by my family, the spawn of Satan.

According to my seemingly perfect family, I am no longer their son. And to be honest, I don't blame them.

I'm a living juxtaposition. My family Orthodox Christian. I'm a Humanist. I was already on this ice with them when that came to light, but of course, they had to discover my sexuality.

I was then only shown in family pictures. Living in the guest room separate from the rest of the house, constantly inviting who is now my ex to stay the night.

My family was so superficial, I was relieved to stay away from them. My brother was the ideal son. I was not. He was their child.

Now its a full 24 hours later, and after powering through the day I'm back to the familiar. Surrounded by the smell of weed and the laughs of Pete, Bob, and Ray.

"Whatever man, one day I'll find a unicorn and you fuckers will be jealous," Bob said, taking a sip from his Sprite and feeling firm in his statement.

Everyone except me laughed. I was busy scrolling through my contacts, questioning when I put in Gerard's number.

"And if you don't?" said Ray, his afro bouncing with each chuckle. "If he doesn't in the next month, I get to dress up poor little Bobby," Pete said, earning a shocked look from Bob.

"Fuck no! You're gonna put eyeliner on me or something."

"All in favor raise your hand, said Ray. I used my peripheral vision to see Pete and Ray raise their hands, while I sent a quick text to Gerard.

"Iero, raise your hand! I'll give you a Dorito back," said Pete. I snapped around to see that he had taken my Doritos, and was eating from them as he said that.

"Yeah yeah, sure! Now give 'em back, you're only screwing yourself by keeping them." I moved over to where the other two were sitting on my bed. I grabbed a few of the cheesy triangles and raised my hand.

"Wait, who's Gerard? Got a new boyfriend, Frankie?" said Bob, who had taken my phone, along with a Dorito.

"No, I met him at school today. He's a pretty rad guy, unlike you," I said while looking him up and down, earning a synchronized "OHHHHHH" from Ray and Pete behind me.

"Well that's great then, because I just invited him over!" Bob screamed, smiling like a bearded toddler in front of me. He was officially high as fuck.

"More to the party! Love ya, dude!" Pete high-fived Bob, and Bob had put out his joint and I had stubbed out my cigarette, the two scents leaving the room and being replaced by grass.

"Eat shit, Bob," I yelled back, laughing and excited, but a little nervous deep inside.

"He said he'll be here in no later than 30! With his brother, who's fifteen. And ooh, wink emoji." Bob shouted, making an expression that resembled an intoxicated gremlin.

I felt myself blush, and I didn't want that to happen. We sat in silence for at least 30 seconds, them watching me and clearly enjoying while munching and in the case of Bob, gathering his things.

"Get some, Frank!" he screeched, the screen and glass door closing behind him with a rattle.

"What's he getting?" I asked, not knowing what he left for. He could be buying condoms to blow up into balloons, for all I knew.

My question was answered by a muffled "beer" from Pete, him laying across Ray's lap, chewing a large amount of Laffy Taffy, and drawing something in eyeliner on the back of Ray's arm.

I turned to the 'fro-toting friend, looking at the voice of reason in the room as if to ask "really?"

A "Hell yeah!" was all I got in response as he looked in my small mirror to assess his eyeliner tattoo: a comic-style pizza slice, captioned with "all hail Peter." He should be glad it wasn't in ink.

On second thought, maybe having Gerard over won't be all that bad...

A/N: Creds for this chapter go to Marianas Trench's album "Fix Me" (which I LOVE QUITE A LOT.), @withinafuckboy on Instagram, and all my new internet friends who I constantly discussed this plot with on kik.

I literally finished this in the shower on my phone, so God bless my determination.

So what do you think will happen next? Arguments? Fun? Drunken stupor? Frerard fluff? 🌚 You'll see in the next two days, maximum.

(((( writing vibes, ))))

xøMay.