Chapter Text
“Fuck.”
Frank was seething. The mirror in the boys bathroom was coated with some unknown fucking filth, blurring the little hole in his face he was trying to see as he tried for the third time to slide his little silver lip ring back into place. It was the fourth time this week that the bitch-nuns had made him take it out during Rosary in St. Fuckface Chapel, and it was getting to be a real fucking pain to work back in- pinched his skin and just left him irritated as all hell, scowling at his reflection for a moment longer before turning away. He absentmindedly started digging into the pocket of his uniform blazer for a cigarette, needing the nicotine, letting it rest against his bottom lip while he fished for a lighter.
Seconds ticked by as his fingers came into contact with change and lint and everything but what he was looking for, spewing out a line of curses that would make a whore blush, about ready to march out to the parking lot, spit on the pavement just because he felt like it and continue the search in his car’s glovebox of school-illegal contents when he heard the door creak, fucking his luck to hell because really, the last thing he needed was to be caught smoking in the bathroom. He’d get detention, again, and he did not fucking need that.
And on the other side of the door, Mikey was stifling a whimper, shoving the heel of his hand under his nose with firm pressure, though hot blood still burst past and slipped down his palm when he forgot and accidentally exhaled through his nose instead of his mouth.
He didn’t even know how many times this had happened, but it still made the corners of his eyes sting, made his cheeks flush and his vision cloud behind his glasses.
And maybe that was why they did it, he really didn’t know. Maybe it was because of his glasses and his easy A’s; his stutter couldn’t help matters much. All he knew was that he didn’t get invited to Marlin’s famous pool parties and he didn’t have anyone at his lunch table who wasn’t mocking his peanut butter and jelly and he didn’t have a girlfriend hanging off his arm, but that didn’t mean he took out his anger at the world by shoving kids into lockers and slamming their face in the metal.
Sniffling quickly and hoping the blood would clot quicker than usual, Mikey pushed through the door, eager to take care of his nose and get back to class. He didn’t want to miss Math, it was the only class he really looked forward to anymore.
And that’s when Frank spun around, cigarette still dangling haphazardly from his lips and tensing for a fight, but he immediately relaxed when he realized who it was. That nerdy little dweeb from first period Chem. The one the other kids picked on. Frank kind of had a policy of never fighting with someone weaker than him; it wasn’t really his style. Besides, he’d much rather kick the ass of some fucking meathead who thought it would be cute to call him a fag and shove him against the water fountain, thinking he wouldn’t fight just because of his height.
The memory of the reason for his most recent trip to the dean’s office made Frank smirk a little, subconsciously cracking his knuckles. Flesh under his fists and fear in the eyes of a junior at least a foot taller than him, crying out for mercy to a god that only his mother believed that he prayed to anymore.
Brought back to the present by a whimper of fear, his eyes narrowed a little when he saw that the other boy was bleeding, taking an involuntary step back in case any of it got on him.
“What’s your problem?”
The look on Mikey’s face spoke volumes of Frank’s reputation. His stomach had dropped down somewhere in his torso and he involuntarily backed up into the inward swing of the door he’d just pushed through.
It was third period.
No one was ever in here third period.
Especially not Frank Iero.
Frank Iero, who Mikey had once seen bust a kid’s lip. Who he’d smelled smoking behind the chapel. Who he’d heard, one time, when he was in the library and they didn’t know he was there, had done things with other boys which made him blush just to think about.
And if Mikey had learned anything in his hellish high school experience, it was to never run away from someone who could pretty easily kick your ass. It prompted some kind of predatory chase reaction you can’t escape if you have asthma. And most important of all, don’t let anyone know something’s funny about your voice unless you really don’t have a choice.
So in response to Frank’s question, he nodded quickly and wandered to the sink at the far end of the bathroom, not even looking in the mirror to check the damage in his haste as he struggled to get the squeaky faucet to turn and wet a paper towel.
Frank just arched an eyebrow at the kid, shoving his hands into his pockets to watch, one hip cocked to the side in an arrogant pose. He grinned when his right hand encountered the lighter he thought he’d lost, tugging it out to flick immediately, at this point pining for a cigarette. He took a long drag, hollowing his cheeks before blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of the sink. Craving for nicotine satisfied, he practically itched to sate his curiosity. Taking a few steps closer, it became apparent that this guy didn’t just have a simple bloody nose, so stereotypical for a fucking geek, but with the way it wasn’t letting up at all and the way the kid’s eyes were watered up, he’d probably been punched something nasty.
“Hey,” Frank muttered, brow knitting together in what he wouldn’t quite call concern, his steps ringing against the tile as he moved forward, cigarette still neatly balanced in his fingers.
“You okay?”
Mikey hunched his shoulders without even realizing he was doing it, turning towards the dirty wall in a show of modesty that was more of a desperate attempt at not being noticed than anything else. Since when did anyone ask ‘are you okay’ anyways. This wasn’t freshman year and last time he’d checked, Frank Iero wasn’t the nurse he’d given up on going to after first semester.
He tossed a bloodied towel wad as discreetly as he could and quickly grabbed another dry one from the metal dispenser, stuffing it up against his nose again before crimson could drip back down and hang at his lip. He hated the fact that there were tears in his eyes, but there was something so degrading about the sting of a socked nose. And the last thing he wanted was Frank seeing his face at all. He didn’t need more recognition in the hall.
So in response to the question, he nodded again, hoping how completely boring he was acting would make the other boy lose interest.
Frank just scowled when he went on nodding and toeing the ground in discomfort and scooting away like Frank couldn’t tell. Granted, he could see how he probably intimidated the kid, but he’s always made a point to never beat up the nerds. At least not without damn good provocation.
“Hey, talk to me,” he muttered, taking one final step closer to grab Mikey by the shoulder, turning him so they were face to face. “I’m not gonna make it worse, okay? I just wanna see. It’s not like I’ve never been punched in the nose before.” He wasn’t really sure where this little surge of almost-compassion was coming from, but he just couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He looked so defenseless and fragile and it stirred something primal within him that he couldn’t quite explain.
Mikey was so busy trying to patch up his nose as quick as he could that he didn’t even hear Frank until he was right behind him, turning around with a strong hand on his shoulder, closely examining his face, and his immediate response was panic. Frank represented everything that could really, really fuck him up - with his piercing and his messy hair and the cigarette dangling haphazardly from his lips, smoke streaming from his nose like fucking Satan or some shit. Mikey quickly backed up into the wall, his shoulder hitting the hand dryer before he slid to the other side of it like the shadow would hide him. Being touched by a boy only equated to three things: blood, pain, and embarrassment.
“D-d-d-don’t, please d-don’t.”
And being scared just made the fucking stutter worse, so he braced himself, because he knew he was about to fucking get it.
A little sickened by the abject fear in Mikey’s eyes, Frank took a step back, sucking hard on the cigarette in his mouth, turning his head to blow the smoke in the opposite direction. “Fucking Christ, will you chill out already? I’m not one of them, okay?”
He paused for another drag, switching his weight between feet. “I beat up the kids who beat up you, actually. So quit with the frightened animal act, I’m not gonna hurt you. Besides, if you don’t let me clean it up a little, you’ll leave and when someone sees me come out next they’ll probably think I did it. And I don’t need that shit right now. So relax. Okay?”
Frank’s voice was calm and confident with a tone of no-nonsense to it, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. And as scared as he was, Mikey only winced a bit at the swear, his shoulders relaxing with fascination as he watched Frank smoke during his monologue, eyes following the other boy’s slender fingers nimbly twirl the cigarette, his lips opening a bit as he blew the gray out in a clean stream. It was something so forbidden to Mikey that there was an undeniable appeal about it. He’d never seen anyone do it up close, the way Frank’s mouth sucked it in and gathered it into the corner and rolled it with his tongue. He was only wrenched back into reality when he heard 'let me clean it up a little’, and he quickly shook his head and darted his eyes down, his glasses sliding awkwardly down his nose.
“N-no, I- can d-do it-” He always had trouble with d’s.
Frank just ignored him, grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, fisting them into a ball and running them under the stream of water. He pushed his jacket sleeves up to his elbows to work, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, keeping a wary eye on Mikey out of the corner of his vision to make sure he didn’t bolt or anything. Stepping close to the younger boy, he set his half-finished smoke down on the edge of the sink behind him, figuring it would be counter-productive to have it burning in his face.
“Christ, hold still, ‘kay? I know what I’m doing. The nurse won’t see me anymore so I know how to deal with shit like this.” To make it easier, he slid Mikey’s glasses back up his nose with a careful press of his thumb, tugging the now bloody wad of towel away to replace it with his own, breathing out a soft ssshh to still any protests.
Mikey gulped, pinning himself to the wall like a fawn in shock, watching Frank grab towels, his hands fisting tight in the side of his pants, freezing still when Frank pressed the compress up under his nose.
But it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected - he’d always used hot water, but Frank used cold, and it felt a lot better. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Frank hushed at him, his eyes softening a bit and his hands slowly letting go of his slacks, his mouth opening just barely, just barely letting himself relax. He looked left at nothing in particular, his eyes down a bit. It was like being at the dentist, not being sure where to stare when someone is looking that closely at your face. He heard himself talking before he even realized it. He always talked when he was nervous, just to say something. Or when someone was actually listening.
“T-the cigarettes. D-do th-ey hurt- your chest? Why d-do,” he swallowed with difficulty, his face wincing up, “You d-do that?”
Frank almost laughed right in Mikey’s face, the innocent and awkward question making him smirk. “Keeps me from stressing out,” he answered without thinking, daubing a little at the other boy’s nose, noticing with satisfaction that the flow of blood seemed to have let up a bit. “Plus it lets all the fuckers around here know not to fuck with me. You ever tried smoking before?” Frank waved off a response the moment he asked the question, like he was taking it back. “No, of course you haven’t, you’re one of those good kids. Bet you’ve never been laid, either.” He grinned at that, leaning a little closer, entirely with the intention of making him uncomfortable, taking in the sharp lines of his chin and his nose and the warm color of his eyes. “So what’s your name?”
Mikey’s face broke into a dorky grin when Frank smiled happy to have made the other boy laugh even if it was at him, tilting easily into the dabbing Frank was still laying at the bottom of his nose. Even his natural shying from curses wasn’t turned on anymore- he was still beaming when Frank threw out 'good kid’ and 'never been laid’, and it was only then that the smile faded and he drew back into himself, his chest hurting a bit. He chewed his lip and lowered his chin.
“M-Mikey.”
Frank had to admit that this kid’s shyness was turning him on in more ways than one, giving his nose another affectionate pat or two after he got the remainder of the blood off.
“Well, Mikey,” he smirked, amused by himself assuming the role of the caretaker in this situation. “Looks like your nose isn’t broken or anything.” He stepped a little closer, resting his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “Tell you what. You tell me the name of the jerk off who did this to you and I’ll even go kick his ass into the concrete. How’s that sound?”
Mikey self-consciously touched the side of his nose with a tentative press when Frank was done and said it wasn’t broken, his eyes still lingered on his shoes. They widened, though, when Frank’s feet came into his square of vision, almost met his- he was way too close, way too close, his schoolcode-breaking sneakers inches away from Mikey’s leather shoes- Mikey’s chest heaved a little under his blazer, buttoned up just like the book said it was supposed to be- he didn’t look at Frank’s uniform, but he would bet money on his shirt being untucked. Frank was pretty much everything he’d been consistently warned about his entire life.
So he wasn’t sure why the only thing racing through his head was a desperate desire for Frank to like him.
“N-no, t-that’s. Okay. Frank.”
“Aww, you sure?” Frank smirked, leaning a little closer so that his lips brushed against the skin of Mikey’s ear with every word he spoke, pressing a little against his body. “You wouldn’t like to see that fucking punk get his ass handed to him? For picking on a poor little guy like you?” Unable to help himself, Frank brought a hand to the side of Mikey’s face, tracing the tips of his fingers along his angular cheekbone and up into his hair, combing through it slightly and looking closer at his features. “How could anyone pick on you anyways,” he breathed, his cigarette entirely forgotten and burning out on the porcelain, far more interested now with this terrified, pretty little Jesus freak he had pinned against a wall.
Mikey’s jaw dropped, tightening his arms at his sides and desperately pressing his thighs together: no-one had ever been this close to him before, much less whispering in his ear, whispering, and he couldn’t help the little whimper in his throat when Frank’s fingers brushed his face, it felt like he was petting him, made a quick gasp suck into Mikey’s lungs. The warmth spreading through his body was horribly wrong, he knew that. He turned his head away from the touch, trying not to think about how Frank was so close he could smell the gel in his hair and the nicotine clinging in the black, grabbing at anything to focus on but the other boy, scared to move and scared to stay still.
“F-F-Frank. Y-ou d-don’t need to d-do that.”
Beat someone up. Or touch him.
“Mmm, I love the way you say my name, Mikey,” Frank grinned, deciding to just abandon the innocent routine and boldly work a leg between the other boy’s thighs, pressing firmly against him and nudging up. He sighed just feeling him. “You ever done anything like this before? Ever got all hard and flustered for a boy?” He paused just to dart a look at his expression, running the pad of his thumb along Mikey’s jaw and pressing a little harder than he needed to. “Did you even know two boys could be together? Or have you not gotten to that chapter of unforgivable sins yet.” He grinned at his own words, ducking down to breathe against the pale skin above the other boy’s collar.
Mikey was stammering in shock as soon as Frank’s leg was pressed between his, his cheeks hot and flushed and his eyes wide, but he was panting softly and squeezing them shut when Frank started talking. The base vulgarity of his words, the strokes to his jaw, the smokey smell of Frank’s breath, the warmth on his ear and the pressure on an area he’d been taught his whole life to never, ever touch had him on complete and shocked senses overload, his knees having a hard time keeping him up against the wall.
“You heard about me, Mikey? Have you heard about how I’m such a fag and I suck off the other boys?”
“F-F-F-Fra-an-n-” He gulped again like he was trying to swallow down his speech issues, trying to figure out how to squirm out of this situation when his body didn’t want to move at all.
Frank’s lips curved into a wicked grin, horny out of his mind at the way this kid was reacting to him. He shoved his thigh forward a little harder, bracing his hands flat on the tile of either side of Mikey’s head. “Do you touch yourself?” he whispered, starting a slow, rhythmic grind against him. “When you’re the only one there, when no one else can hear you? Do you reach down your pants and bring yourself off? Huh?”
Mikey turned his head to the side, glasses askew, a whine stuck in his throat as he rapidly shook his head, his blazer feeling tight and restricting and hot and all he wanted to do was bolt because he felt like he was close to something and it’d been a long time, and he’d gone to Confession for it and he didn’t want to go again and have to say that again to Father O'Malley-
“N-n-no I d-don’t- I d-don’t d-do that- I d-don’t- s-stop Frank plea-se- pl-ease s-s-”
He felt himself beginning to tighten, the warmth in the pit of his stomach turning into a burning heat and he began to panic, squirming desperately to get away- “No F-Frank no no pu-pulease, please stop-”
“Oh but Mikey, you sound so good when you’re about to come,” Frank purred against his ear, gritting his teeth a little from the effort of shoving against Mikey’s crotch, eager to get him off, wanting to hear the noises he made when it hit him hard. With his lips flush against the other boy’s ear, Frank couldn’t help but smirk as he whispered, letting a hand drop down to twist around Mikey’s tie, giving it a firm tug. “Come on, it’ll feel so fucking good, I promise….”
Mikey’s eyes shot open, a mangled, broken gasp ripping through the air as he finally gave in to what was happening and let his head fall back, his hair pinned up on the wall- he’d never felt anything like it, and before he knew it his hands were needily grabbing and coaxing for more like they didn’t belong to him, faster closer harder, grasping at the back of Frank’s jacket, tugging on his blazer, and all it took was Frank’s promise and a careful constriction of his throat to send him plummeting over the edge for the first time in months, sliding down the wall a little, his eyes locked with the ceiling as he panted for breath.
And it was only moments until he gathered himself enough to realize what he’d done, tears quickly welling in his eyes, his cheeks still flushed and pink- he immediately began looking around for his bookbag, completely forgetting he’d left it in his locker and just trying to keep from crying until he could get far away from Frank.
Frank couldn’t help but feel for the guy; poor thing had probably been convinced that his own dick was put there by Satan, and fuck only knows what was going through his head right now. Grazing a thumb across his cheek, he ducked in to press a surprisingly soft kiss against the corner of Mikey’s lips.
Somehow he had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time they ran into each other like this. At least not if Frank had anything to say about it. “…Get to class,” he breathed, finally stepping back with a smirk to pluck the cigarette he’d abandoned from the side of the sink; burned to the filter but with just enough left for one little drag, flicking it over the high wall of the stall when he was done, turning and strolling leisurely out of the bathroom.
Mikey’s breathing was still labored when the door swung shut, pants coming short and quick more from shock and panic than any physical exertion. He took the kiss and statement without any response, gulping when Frank pulled away and unable to look and see what he was doing as he trembled against the wall. It was only when Frank was out the door that he ran to the stall and hunched over, throwing up his half his sandwich until nothing was left and sliding down the paneling.
He winced at the uncomfortably foreign sticky feeling in his pants and hugged himself tight, crying freely and coughing a bit on his own sobs. Not only had he done something horrible, but he’d done something horrible with another boy- he had no idea what to do, horror and guilt creeping through his body until he finally cried himself to sleep, his head leaning against the cold metal and fingers wrung together.
He realized he hadn’t wanted to stop it.