Don't Look Down

Chapter 1

Frank pov

I kept my head down as I sped through the hallway to math class.
"Hey faggot!" I hear from behind me.
I freeze in my tracks, hating the fact that I responded to such an effortless insult. I want so badly to keep walking and act like I don't care, like I usually do, but I just couldn't. The jock's harsh comments from yesterday were also fresh in my mind, hitting one after another like a punch to the face. Each one burns a hole in my heart and lowers my self esteem by another 100%.

Before I can think the situation through any longer, I'm slammed against a locker. "Why so quiet today? Did you finally figure it out?" This boy was taunting me, I could hear it in his voice. He's trying to lower me, make me stoop down to his pathetic level and crush me as soon as possible hit rock bottom. "You're worthless!"

"Yeah! Just another dick sucking slut."
Another boy sneered then spit on my face. I grunted as he began to pick me up by the collar. I shut my eyes preparing for their worst when I hear someone say...

"Just leave him alone, Brian."

I open my eyes and turn my head toward where the voice came from. Gerard Way stood there. The callous boy had his hands in his pockets and a toothpick in his mouth like he had not one care in the world. I knew that if we weren't on school property it would have been a cigarette; I laughed hollowly to myself at the situation.

To be completely honest I know nothing about Gerard, but he's not hard to comprehend. He's just another troubled teen who smokes just like the rest of the troubled youth demographic.

He's not popular or even normal really, he's too intimidating for that. Despite his standoff ish behavior and stone exterior, he kinda blends in with the world. Stays in background so people like my bullies don't notice him unless he wants them to.
I respect him, but I'll never understand the appeal. The girls notice him, I mean, how could they not? Nothings sexier than a man that you can't have. I guess they think his black greasy hair or flakey hazel eyes are to die for, which they kinda are in a sense.
I see such confidence in him, that only highlights the things that make me a dejected waste.

Still, even as I stand here spineless, Gerard spared his time to even save my pathetic ass.

The feeble-minded meathead I now know as Brian, laughed and dropped me.
"Next time..." he sneered, face still close to mine, "Your boyfriend won't save you." He teased, shoving me a bit one last time as if to ensure the last word.

"I didn't know you were a faggot, Way!" Another jock said, obviously amused by the whole situation.

They all had this evil smirk on their faces that seemed to match their egotistical personalities. Do they realize? It's not hard to put people down, and it's definitely not something to be proud of.

"Get a hold of yourself, jackass. Find a new insult and get your head outta your ass." Gerard scoffed, his jersey accent shining through.

The topic of Gerard's sexuality has always dawdled in the back of my mind. I always assumed he was straight, almost positive actually. So for these boys to question it seems odd. Gerard is probably going to be accused for being gay now that he helped me and I'm going to feel bad. Though, he can clearly fend for himself. He's too overbearing to let such a thing be used against him. He won't let people walk all over him and that fact won't change even if he's gay.

Besides, he's had like three girlfriends or maybe girl 'flings' would better suit him.
I chuckled, I guess I know more about Gerard than I'd like to think, but he's nothing more then a subconscious bias... or crush I keep in the back of my mind. I've never spoken a word to him before in my entire life and I probably never will. I'm not the chatty type if that isn't obvious.

Gerard shook his head and continued walking down the hallway. Our eyes met for a single moment and I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment rise to my cheeks.
I wiped the spit off my cheek in one gross movement then walked away to class, attempting to keep my dignity intact.
I didn't look back. I didn't want to see his face or even have a slight clue as to what he was thinking.

At home

I tried to block out the sound of my parents argument by shutting my door, but it was no use. The walls were thin in this cheap family, but that was fitting for us. The realization of this family is ugly, any remaining love was dead and it was a tough truth to swallow.
As the yelling got louder it seemed to echo in my head with the force of an amphitheater. I want to escape, I want to flee my own head and never come back. As it got harder and harder to breath, I rested a hand flat on my chest. I was breathing but no air seemed to reach my lungs.

It's suffocating!

I got up, hot tears running down my cheeks and with a fire burning in my chest I ran outta my room and collapsed onto the bathroom tile. I clumsily locked the door behind me before leaning back against the door.
The yelling in my head seemed to fade, but the overwhelming feeling of dread remained. My eyes flickered to the cabinet and my hands shook as I fought an urge...
I have been clean for two weeks, but as I sat on the cold floor the numbness encasing my heart continued to consume me. I can't take it anymore. I need to feel something other than this emotional turmoil. Something to east the suffocation and take my mind of everything.

I hesitantly put the blade against my skin and pushed. I didn't stop until my arm was covered in red. I let myself bleed for awhile before stopping it.
Instead of my chest being on fire, my arm was burning. At least it was a physical pain... but despite feeling so clear headed... I still felt so useless.

My thoughts were interrupted by the front door slamming and the house shaking a little from the force of it. I pulled on a long sleeve shirt and ran downstairs to see my mom sitting at the dinner table with her head in her hands. Her loud sobs filled the small room.
"He's gone." she mumbled, voice shaky.

I knew she meant my dad. I know why he left and I feel terrible 'cause it was my fault. My mother and father had different views on how to deal with my sexuality. I came out to my family a few months ago. My mom tired her best to be supportive, but my dad was disgusted and disgraced. It killed me to be disowned by the person I once looked up to. But that person has been gone for years, and the man that remained was nothing short of evil.

"It's my fault isn't it?" I asked dully.

"No baby, I said lots of things that upset him. It wasn't you." She said in the most comforting tone she could manage, despite being slightly hysterical herself.

"All you do is lie! It's my fault! It is! It's all my fault!" I was crying now too. I only cried harder when she said nothing in reply right away like before.

"Frank, I wouldn't expect you to understand what's going on between your father and I."

It was quiet for a moment, then I said, "Then let's leave here! There's nothing for us here. Dad's more of a burden than anything else!" I spoke so softly I'm surprised she heard a single word.

"Frank, you know we can't do that." Her voice sounded so strained; like she wanted to, but couldn't.

"Mom please, for me?" My voice was barely above a whisper as it cowered in my throat.

She was silent, like she was thinking, but then suddenly burst out, "No Frank, just stop it! I can't handle you right now. Go, please!"
I wasn't prepared for her to explode. I cringed at the sudden harshness, and my ability to speak was robbed from me, leaving me to stare at her blankly as my heart throbbed with hurt.

Suddenly the pain became too much and I walked out of the house. Perhaps there's just nothing for me here...