~Mikey's POV~

Lockers. Again.
Why can't they choose a different method of pain for once?
I'm surprised they're not bored with it yet.
A locker door can only do so much to my face.
They already broke my glasses.
And my nose.
And busted my lip.
And put that scar on my neck.

Okay, I take it back.
Lockers hurt.

Limping on my right foot, I neared the meeting point with the guys. Gerard's going to be pissed.

"What the hell did they do to you this time, Mikey?" Gee commented on my leg as he caught me from falling on my face. "Gerard, calm down."

"Calm down?! Look at you! They've... they've broken you!"

"Gee, shut up."

"And for what? A laugh? They hurt my baby brother-"
"Well, guess what. I'm not a baby, Gerard. I can take care of myself."

"No. You're not a baby. But you're my little brother and look at yourself, Mikey... You cannot deal with this shit anymore."

Gerard huffed and stormed up and down the hallway, looking like a 4-year-old with the pout on his face, his arms crossed like a toddler who wasn't allowed a cookie until after dinner. "It's not fair!"

"GEE. Calm the fuck down. I'm fine."

"No."

"Mikey, come on, you have to see it from our perspective. You're like a little brother to all of us, and you ARE Gerard's brother. It's not okay to keep taking their shit." Ray Toro, our happy-go-lucky friend, spoke up, a sympathetic voice cooled me down, the hate in Gerard's expression softened into remorse.

"I'm sorry, Mikey. This is my fault."

"How the hell do you take this as YOUR fault-"
"I should have been there for you. I should have stopped those fuckers."

"Gee, there's nothing you could have done-"

"You don't know that, Ray."

Silence fell over the guys; the only noise was the sound of staggered breathing and a sniffle here and there. Bob and Ray turned around, staring intently on what stood in front of them. Gerard didn't turn one inch, but his face showed his guilt. "You're hurt. Again. Why is it you're always hurt, Mikey?"

"Frank, a-are... you crying?"

Bob elbowed Ray for his outburst that broke the silence that Frank's question had introduced. Frank stepped forward and flinched at the sight of my bloody nose and black eye, the scar on my neck undeniably visible. "It never ends, does it?"

Unsure of what to say, I shook my head, cuing more tears to escape Frank's beautiful eyes. "Frank, I... I'm sorry..."

Everyone turned to look at Frank and I, eyes burning into his back, the feeling that we were being watched closely took over both of us. "Frankie..."

"Mikey..."
Overwhelmed, tears spilled from his eyes and he ran as fast as he could out of that school, sick of seeing the damage inflicted on my body.

Speechless, I turned to face the guys. Bob and Ray glared at me, expecting me to fall to my knees crying. Honestly, I wish I could have. All I could do was bolt down the bland corridor in hopes of catching up with Frankie.

I turned a corner to face an empty hallway. No people lingered in the hall, so I couldn't help but notice the sound of muffled sobs.

"Why is it ALWAYS him?!"

A limp figure was sprawled in the corner between the lockers, incoherent noises staggered their way to my ears. The still form was draped in black, their luminous pale skin stood out against the darkness of their clothing.

"Frankie?"

Shocked, I watched as a boy's face became visible from under the black hoodie, his flushed cheeks wet.

"Mikey?"

Inching towards the weeping boy, I sat at his side, taking his fragile, shaking hand in my own.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's fine, Frankie, it's fine," I cooed sweetly, calming his nerves bit by bit.

"It's not fair, Mikes." He sniffled and nuzzled his head gently into my neck, resting it on my shoulder.

"Yeah, well, I'm here now," I started, closing my eyes, laying my head on his, "and nothing will change that. Promise."