Disgusting (Frerard)

Chapter two - blush

"No, of course I'm not going to kill you," I half laughed. "But if I was some murderer, you wouldn't be doing much to plead your case."

"S-sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry. It was an accident."

The boy just looked more confused than ever.

"I'm– I'm not like everyone else," I said, quieter than before. "I don't hate you."

"You don't? You don't want to kill any of us? Or you just felt sorry for me because I was crying?"

"I don't want to kill any of you. This discriminating, I think it's stupid. The whole fucking council is stupid!"

"Keep your voice down!" the boy said, terror filling his eyes. "If anyone sees you talking to me they'll kill the both of us!"

I shook my head. "It's okay."

"No, it's not! You've got my handprints all over you! If anyone sees, they'll–"

"It's okay! No one's going to see." I ducked into a nearby alleyway and gestured for the boy to follow, and he nervously shuffled behind me.

"God– I'm so fucking– so sorry. You can't even go to school now. They'll kill you. I'm s-so–"

"It's alright, I'll just bunk off." I waved a hand, dismissing the worry.

"Where are you going to go?"

I shrugged. "Incastum?"

"What?"

"I've been there before. I have friends there."

"They'll be at school!"

"Why aren't you at school?"

"I had to– I went to the shop." He waved the plastic shopping bag in his hand feebly.

"Why? You have shops in the incastum."

"I needed a pharmacy. We, um. We ran out."

"Of what?"

"I..." He sighed. "Methotrexate," he said softly.

"Metho... what?" I frowned in confusion.

"It's, um. Medication. For leukaemia."

I stared at the boy, suddenly feeling immensely sad. I'd kind of hoped we could be friends. "You..." I murmured weakly.

"My brother," he sighed miserably.

"I'm so sorry," I said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder but freezing when he flinched away. I'd forgotten about the marks I would leave.

"It's okay, I guess," he mumbled.

"You don't look very okay," I said.

"No. I'm fine. You can just... g-go. To wherever it is you were going to go."

"Well, I was going to go to the incastum. We can walk together," I offered.

The boy blinked. "A-are you sure you want to be seen with me? I mean, we'll have to walk all the way across–"

"It's alright," I laughed. "I like you. I don't care."

The corner of the boy's mouth twitched up slightly in an almost-smile. "Okay."

"Oh," I said. "I still don't know your name."

"I-I'm Gerard."

"Hi. I'm Frank. I like your name."

"I l-like yours."

Did he have a stutter? I thought it was just out of fear when he first crashed into me, but he had no reason to be at all frightened now. "Do you have a stutter?" I asked without thinking.

"I–"

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, realising how offensive that could have sounded. "I didn't mean to be rude or anything, I just– god, I'm probably really freaking you out now."

"It's okay," he smiled– a proper smile, all adorable, his eyes shining and his lips stretched into a grin. "I m-mean, I do have a stutter, it's just kind of embarrassing." He bit his lip nervously, and blushed.

"I think it's kind of sweet," I admitted, but regretted it the moment the words left my mouth.

He flushed an even darker shade of red and hid behind his hair, clearly mortified. What the hell was I thinking? He probably thought I was some rapist / serial killer who targeted blacks now.

"Thanks," he mumbled softly, scuffing his shoes in the dirt. He looked up and smiled shyly. "Do you want to go then?"

"Sure," I said, my face spreading into a grin.