Chapter Text
8-26-36
Turn right two times, right, left– no, that’s not right– right?
“C’mon, man, please? It’s cramped in here… and I think, oh, gross, is that a sandwich? Legit, get me out of here now, you nasty fuck–”
Frank rolled his eyes and tugged on the lock one last time, and he could hear his heavy sigh synch up with one from the boy in his locker as the catch finally gave and he was able to pull the lock out and open the door.
He raised a flawless eyebrow at the mess of beanie and blonde and glasses tumbling out at him, and grunted, “That’s not any way to talk to your rescuer, now is it?”
The blonde boy unfolded himself, and set his beanie straight and brushed imaginary crumbs from his shoulder all proper and haughty, and said, “You do not know the torture I’ve just been through.”
Frank laughed, a snarky, clipped laugh, and said, “You don’t know much, do you?”
Beanie Boy removed his glasses, wiped off some more imaginary dust, and then returned them to his face, as he said, “Not really. But more than you. At least I know how to properly open a lock.”
Frank rolled his eyes and turned back to his locker, shutting it and all the while saying, “Well, I got you out, didn’t I?”
The boy with the beanie and crooked glasses looked down then, almost ashamed, and said, “Yeah, uh, thanks.”
Frank looked down his nose at the blonde boy (or more like up his nose, because he had the misfortune of being approximately shorter than 5/6 of the male population) and momentarily considered telling him off; because it had been a particularly shit day already and this dweeb was helping matters .0 percent– but he sighed again instead, and just said softly, “It’s cool man. I’ve been there, done that.”
“I’m new,” the blonde muttered, the slight shyness still present in his voice. “Uh, I’m Mikey.” He dipped his head a bit, causing his glasses to fall down; and he pushed them up the bridge of his long, slightly upturned nose, only for them to fall down again.
“Mikey?” Frank took in the boy’s entire appearance now; his beanie was gray, glasses black and big-framed, and he was wearing a hugely loose Misfits shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans, and gray Keds. Frank nodded to himself– he looked dorky enough to be a Mikey, he guessed.
“Yeah, I–” the boy began to speak again, but Frank cut him off, throwing an open hand in his face.
“I’m Frank Anthony Iero Jr.”
Mikey blinked for a second, and cocked his head. “J– wait, what?”
Frank lowered his hand, shoving it into the pocket of his gray Rude cords, and said, “You can just call me Frank.”
“Okay, well, um–” Mikey ran a hand through his hair, knocking his beanie askew in the process, and ignoring Frank’s snort, continued, “Do you by any chance know where room D7 is? I think that’s… my next class, I don’t know, I lost my schedule–”
“I indeed do,” Frank cut the blonde off. “Do you by any chance want to skip D7 and go smoke a joint with me behind the McD’s on 5th?”
Mikey blushed, and more to himself stuttered out, “Gee would kill me…”
Frank bit his lip. “So that’s a yes?”
“Yeah.”
Frank let his head roll onto the blonde’s shoulder, red-tinted eyes raking up and down what he could see of the kid’s thin figure, and he said, “So where ’ya from?”
“Belleville– pass it,” and Frank did, taking one last puff off the blunt before handing it off to Mikey, “My parents just got divorced, right? Well, I went with my dad, and Mom took–” and he stopped there, like that was the end, squinting as he turned to face Frank. “What about you?”
“I’ve lived in Kearney a while,” Frank nodded. “Live with my mom. How old are you?”
Mikey let out a breath of tainted air, and scrunched his face up like he was thinking. “Seventeen. You?”
“Sixteen.” He watched as the older boy took the last breath of smoke from the joint, and said, “Shotgun me?”
Mikey looked over at him, smoke still held in his lungs as he raised an eyebrow; and then he grabbed Frank’s jaw, and forced the boy’s lips open with his own, and exhaled slowly.
“Thanks,” Frank said, scrunching his nose up at an imaginary itch as he let the smoke filter into his lungs, and then out through his nose in a rush. He watched as Mikey put out the roach on the cold cement underneath them, and then flicked it out across the alley, and then stretched, and leaned his head against the brick wall behind them. “You smoke often?”
Mikey snorted at that, and rolled his eyes. “Never, never ever. I’m a good kid.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “Never drink, never smoke, never fuck.”
“Good,” Frank scoffed playfully. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin that grand, locker-worthy reputation.”
“Anyone ever told you you’re a little shit?”
“I gave you weed,” Frank countered, and Mikey rolled his eyes again.
“’Ya shouldn’t have. Wouldn’t wanna ruin my locker-worthy reputation.”
Frank turned his head to face the blonde boy. “Who put you in there?”
“Fuck if I know,” the blonde retorted. “Tall, dark, and handsy, with douche friends Thing One and Thing Two.”
“Did you mean “All of Queen of Peace High”?” Frank spoke in a generic “human computer” voice. “Yeah, I know them.”
“They do the same to you?” Mikey looked over at the younger boy questioningly.
“Not anymore. That’s newbie treatment. Once they find out your sexuality is a bit “off skew” you get it much worse. Or maybe you won’t have that problem. Maybe that’s just me.” Frank rolled his eyes and laughed humorlessly, and slunk down further against the cold brick behind him.
“So… you’re..?” The older boy left a blank, as if to show he didn’t really want to impose, or assume anything.
“Bi. Why? You gonna put me in my own locker?” Frank raised an eyebrow.
“Nah, too stuffy in there. Gross and full of old sandwiches. I’m not that mean.” Mikey quipped.
“Good.” Frank looked up at the sky then, which was just starting to turn the kind of sick gray-orange that New Jersey skies did at sunset. “Shit, what time is it?”
Mikey blinked dumbly, before pulling his Sidekick out of his pants’ front pocket. “Wow, it’s 5:50, why?”
The younger boy sat up rapidly, pushing himself off the cold asphalt before turning to the blonde boy, a bit frantic. “Shit, my mom wants me home by 6:00 sharp every day for dinner… oh, jeez… Here.” Frank held his hands out flat to help the other boy up. “Fuck, I gotta run, she’ll dismember me.” Frank scrunched his face up at that. “Ouch.”
Mikey looked slightly down at the younger boy, who was still freaking out. “How far from here do you live?”
“It’s like, a ten minute walk exactly. You? Oh, shit, do you even know how to get home?”
Mikey laughed dully at that. “Yeah, dude. I live right over there–” He pointed in the general direction of some stereotypically Happy Family cul-de-sac that Frank vaguely recognized. “Um, so will I see you tomorrow, or–”
“Yeah, at my locker just– fuck, okay, how high do I look?” Frank blinked rapidly at the blonde boy, as if he thought that that would somehow help his case.
“Stoned off your ass,” Mikey said with slight disdain. “Why, can she not know?”
“Ask yourself, “Would God approve?” and you’ll have your answer,” Frank clipped, obviously put out by this piece of news. He ran a hand through his hair then, and said, “Okay, need to sober up, uh– shit, I’m gonna do something really weird, and don’t kill me?”
Mikey blinked, and didn’t really even have a chance to nod before the younger boy was pulling him in by his shirt and pressing their lips together.
The blonde tried to say something along the lines of, “Wait, what?” that probably came out more like, “Ungh?” and gave the shorter boy clear access to deepen the kiss, moving his lips roughly yet slowly against the older boy’s.
When Frank finally pulled away his eyes weren’t exactly any less red, but his entire face was, so it was much less noticeable. Mikey blinked hard, and went, “What?” and Frank gave him a sheepish grin and a shrug, before running off, yelling, “Later!” over his shoulder.
Mikey scrunched his face up in confusion as he watched the younger boy run away; and then he shrugged himself, and straightened his glasses, and turned toward home.