Take Me By The Hand

Chapter Three ^.^

I don't want to go to school. I don't want to get out of bed or even open my eyes. I want to lay here, tangled in my Batman sheets, wallowing in my self pity. Of course, my bladder had other plans and, within two minutes, I was off the bed and rushing to the bathroom down the hall. 

As I'm washing my hands, I happen to glance up. I catch sight of myself in the large mirror and nearly cringe. I look like utter shit. My black hair is ratted, sticking up at weird angles. There are bags under my eyes, which are bloodshot and puffy. I didn't cry myself to sleep-- I know that's what you're thinking. That's not the case. Instead, I fell to sleep rather easily. The lack of sleep was caused by my parents, who decided to spend most of the night screaming at each other in the next room over. Even with headphones jammed in my ears, I could still hear them.

The fighting has been getting worse lately. It's a constant war between the two of them and I'm just there in the middle, watching helplessly from the sidelines. I had tried to interfere a few times before, but that got me nowhere except for them demanding that I choose a side; How was I supposed to choose between my parents when I thought they were both being incredibly childish? 

Last night, the fight was about me. 

"You don't even see what you're doing to the poor kid!" My mother had shrieked. "All he's asking for is an hour of your precious time and you can't even do that!" I sat there with my head buried under the pillow, trying to drown out the sound of their voices. She was talking about getting me a car. My dad had promised, when I turned sixteen back in October, that he would take me to the used car lot and I could pick one out. I already knew which one I wanted-- an old beat up Firebird, rusted black paint and dented fender included, not to mention the torn up seats and busted stereo. But she was a beaut. And I wanted her. My dad had been assuring me for months that we would go pick it up, but now here we were; the middle of March and still no car. 

"I don't think he's ready to drive," My dad retorted and even I, alone in my room, had rolled my eyes. He knew damn well that I was ready to drive; He was the one that taught me.

"Oh please," My mother laughed humorlessly. There's silence and then the voices become more muffled, their tones dropping an octave. "Is this because of what he told us?"

It was at this point that I had pulled the pillow off my head and put my ear to the wall, straining now to hear the conversation. This should be good.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Even through the wall, I could call bullshit on my father. He knew exactly what she was referring to and so did I. That didn't stop my mother from saying it anyway. 

"Are you avoiding him because he told you that he was gay?" I can only imagine my mother's glare now, staring my father down, challenging him to admit that she was right. Back in November, soon after my birthday, I decided to come clean with my parents. I knew they would accept me-- my mother, at least-- for who I was. So I told them I was gay. My father had been avoiding me ever since. My mother and I both had a theory why, and now here we were, confronting him about it, me on the other side of the wall of course. But it was also in that moment that I decided I didn't want to know the answer to this question. 

What if I found out that my father had been avoiding me because I was gay? That wouldn't change anything. This new information wouldn't make him suddenly want to spend time with me again, and it most certainly wouldn't stop me from liking boys. So I pulled away from the wall, finding my iPod in the clutter that hid the top of my desk, jammed in the earphones, and tried to sleep.

Of course, looking at myself in the mirror right now, I regretted that decision. I hadn't been able to actually rest, my thoughts more focused on my dad and then somehow wandering back to Synyster and Zacky. Now I looked like shit and there was nothing I could do about it. 

Or was there?

Mikey had always told me that he knew I gay because I "dressed like a gay person"... Whatever that meant. I knew I couldn't control who I liked and the way I dressed had no effect on that. But what if I was wrong? What if I was gay because of the way I dressed? I narrow my eyes at my own reflection, challenging myself as my fingers grip the marble counter. What if I dressed happy? Would I automatically become happier? 

My head starts hurting from the confusing theory, but I figure; What the hell? It's worth a shot, right?

I make my way back to my bedroom and start throwing various clothes from the dresser drawers. That's when the realization hits me, at the same time a pair of jeans do; What does dressed happy even look like? Rainbows and unicorns? Fuck no. I purse my lips... What makes me happy? 

I chew lightly on my lip ring as I pull some clothes on. When I finally slip my black Converse on, I'm dressed in ripped jeans and a Black Flags T-shirt. As a finishing touch, I pull on my fingerless skeleton gloves and smear on a little black eyeliner. Having a stare-down once again with my reflection, I force a cheeky smile, attempting to show all my teeth at once, and then sigh. I don't feel any better. I look better, that's a plus, but I still feel like shit. Regardless, I figure there's nothing I can do about it and, since I'm already dressed, decide to head to school. 

As soon as I step through the front doors, I have the sudden urge to turn around and bolt back toward my house. The first person my eyes land on is Zacky, leaned against the row of lockers and smiling flirtatiously at Synyster.

I take a deep breath. I can do this. Happy clothes. Happy attitude. Be fucking happy, Frank. I avert my gaze and move quickly to my own locker, pushing the door open and fighting the impulse to climb in and shut the door behind me. Instead, I put a few textbooks in and grab what I know I'll need for first period. Just as I'm closing the locker, I glance up, my gaze meeting none other than Zacky's.

Shit, he probably thinks I've been looking at him this whole time! Look away, Iero! LOOK AWAY! 

"Hey," I don't even notice when Zacky takes those few short strides from his locker to mine, now standing merely a foot away.

I mentally slap myself and force myself to remain calm, but my mind is screaming. HOLY MOTHER OF CRAP, ZACKY BAKER IS TALKING TO ME. I smile. "Hi." Great, Frank. Ingenious reply. You, my dear sir, are an idiot. 

Zacky leans against the locker next to mine, nearly towering over me. Holy frick, how have I never noticed how tall he is before? Or attractive? Okay, clearly I have taken notice of his attractiveness. But it still amazes me. The way his eyes glimmer, the amusement seeming to show on his entire face. "So, Syn's having a party this weekend."

And my heart sinks once again.

I clear my throat against the annoying lump that settles there. I look down, focusing on the journal I have in my hands, pretending like I'm actually doing something more than making a complete fool of myself. "Yeah, I heard."

"Are you going?" Zacky lowers his head a little, but I keep my eyes down, refusing to look at him.

I shrug and shake my head. "No," I admit. "Nobody wants me to go, though. I didn't get invited." I want to turn away from the gorgeous boy in front of me and beat my head against the locker again. Maybe this time I'll hit it hard enough to black out. 

"I'm inviting you," Zacky says and my eyes widen, finally finding his again. He smirks down at me. "It should be a lot of fun."

Of course it will be fun for Zacky and Synyster. I nearly cringe at the thought of what will happen at that party. And being there while they... do it. That seems even worse than not being invited at all.

I shake my head again, looking down and forcing a smile. "Like I said, nobody really wants me there."

Zacky laughs lightly. "How obvious do I have to make it, Frankie?" His voice lowers and he leans in closer. I can smell his aftershave and cologne and I just want to pull him closer to me. I only tighten my grip on the journal and thank god that I took a shower this morning. His lips are almost touching my ear when he speaks again. "I want you to go."

My heart stops and I fight the urge to scream like a girl who just got asked to her high school prom. But this is so much better; Zacky Baker just asked me to go to Synyester's party with him. My eyes are wide when he pulls away, smiling. I manage a nod and swallow hard. 

"Good." His grin grows even wider. "I'll see you there." He winks-- HE ACTUALLY FUCKING WINKS-- and then he disappears down the hall.