(no subject)
Title: My Heart's On Fire
Pairing: past Frank/Jepha, Jepha/OMCs
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1374
Summary: “So, I’m gonna pull a Carrie,” Frank says. Spencer seems the kind that would understand that.
Prompt used: psychotic break for angst bingo
Warnings: semi bashing of Jepha, the way an ex would discuss another ex a day after the break up. Mass off screen character death.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
A lot of the things that first go through Frank’s head are things that would get him arrested or six feet under. In the end though, all he does stalk towards Jepha’s locker, fishing the tickets out of his wallet as he goes. They’re a waste now, it’s not like he can regift them. Everyone’s in class, or skipping in the cafeteria or in the parking lot, there’s no one to see him. So Frank shoves one end through the vent in the locker and lights the edge he’s holding on fire. He’s not sure if Jepha’s wearing his claim to fame, his autographed hoodie. The heaters are on full blast in each classroom but a lot of teens don’t let climate fuck with their own personal style, he himself wears hoodies indiscriminately most of the year. Still, he sincerely hopes that it’s hanging on one of the shitty metal hooks, and by the time the fire alarm goes off it’s nothing but ash.
It’s not so much that Jepha is a cheating whore, that much Frank probably could have handled. If he’d gotten a really good apology maybe they could have had a conversation about being friends with benefits, or an open relationship. A compromise could have been devised. It’s all the other stuff that makes it worse, and worse, and worse, until Frank just wants to throw himself against the locker again and again until all his bones break.
It’s that Jepha was his first boyfriend. It had been easy to pretend he was into girls, a lifetime of movies and older cousins showing him how to properly act. Most of the time he could even get it up, if he closed his eyes and angled his body so her breasts weren’t rubbing up against him. Getting her off in return was like mowing the lawn, something that he did because he was expected to. Jepha was the first boy Frank ever approached. That night at the edge of the pit was the first time Frank was brave enough to say no, that’s what I really want. It shouldn’t be tainted like this.
It’s that Frank trusted him with his body. Jepha’d been out since sixth grade, he was hardly his first boyfriend. He was trading handjobs when Frank was making kisses overly wet so he wouldn’t taste berry flavoured lipchap. But Jepha had told him they were going to be each other’s firsts. They didn’t use condoms. Now Frank can’t help but wonder if he’s got crabs or chlamydia or something.
It’s that he didn’t realise it was being recorded when they were having sex, but now it’s online. Jepha was smart enough to not put their names on it, so the sole positive is it might not fuck them up for jobs later, like bong rip Facebook photos do. But there’s no question that everyone at school with an internet connection has seen it, there are a dozen different Mediafire accounts with it, and Frank’s pretty sure it got onto Xtube.
It’s that Frank’s completely outed. He was going to come out eventually. Probably at the end of the year, when there’d be no time left for drama or bullshit. He got beat on until he was old/pissed/reckless enough to fight back, and he’s smart enough to know that being gay is just more ammunition. Not everyone has a completely insane posse of friends to back them, Frank doesn’t have a Quinn to threaten to cut someone’s tendons so they’ll never run another play again.
It’s that maybe he was in love. Enough to weigh it against the repercussions of showing up somewhere together and still come out in the plus. That had led to him buying two tickets to the Valentine’s Day dance. Ticket that are now curling into a crisp in the bottom of Jepha’s locker.
In theory Frank’s all for the community service credit every student must earn each year. Essentially it boils down to sixty five hours of performing services for charities in the city or helping committees at school. Giving back to the community is good, Frank always spends at least half the time at a shelter passing out dinners. Even if every student has their moment of being an indentured slave for a teacher that needs a hand, it’s not like the vast majority of teachers aren’t decent people anyway.
In practice it’s only rubbing salt into the wound deeper. Less of rubbing the salt in and more blasting a bullet from a rocksalt gun ala Supernatural right into the open wound, really. Mrs Duer speaks up in homeroom asking someone to volunteer to man the ticket taking of the Valentine’s dance, lamenting that all her normal helpers all have dates and are too busy. Connor raises his hand and informs her that with Frank’s new status he’ll be available. Frank barely stops himself from launching himself over the two rows of desks to strangle the life out of Connor. It would be a waste of time though, all the other students are snickering, smirking, and outright laughing. It’s not like Connor is special in his assholishness.
He doesn’t have the right to refuse a placement. Not unless he has ethical or behavioural concerns, like how he got out of serving at the potluck because there were meat products, like how they never put him anywhere that has a jock. But there’s no dead flesh at the table he’s forced to sit at, only ticket after ticket to rip. And it’s impossible to explain he has a behavioural concern with every single douchebag that walks through the doors, dressed up fancy like they don’t all want to strip and fuck the shit out of their girlfriends or boyfriends.
Even after everyone’s in the room, he and Spencer Smith -the other teen that got roped into manning the table- have to stay. If anyone comes out drunk they’re supposed to call the cops. It’ll eat four hours of CS credit time, but there’s no question that it’s boring. Frank has a book but he can’t read it. He started reading it Before, on a recommendation from Brandon. Every word makes him want to vomit. Spencer doesn’t seem to be having the same issue with his Gameboy.
Presumably they’re supposed to be chatting, making friends with each other. Instead Frank gets up and goes outside to the double doors on the other side of the gymnasium. Beyond the metal latticed glass windows half the school are grinding to a song he can’t hear, tacky strobe lights blinking at random intervals. Frank thinks for a second, giving himself a chance to change his mind. He doesn’t. Instead he grabs a metal pole from the ever present construction across the street and threads it through the handle.
It’ll be just as easy to block the other exit. Technically there are three, the doubles to outside, the doubles to his and Spencer’s table, and the one to the change room in the basement, which has it’s own emergency exit. But that one is illegally locked, closed after too much fucking around from the football team.
Frank walks around the perimeter of the school to his car. The propane tank he stole from the barbecue is full and heavy, it’s hard to drag into the school. Spencer barely looks up from his game as he screeches it down the hall.
“So, I’m gonna pull a Carrie.” Spencer seems the kind that would understand that, his best friend gets beaten up on a regular basis. Frank doesn’t know his name, but he’s seen him in lost and found clothes more than once after his have gotten wrecked. “If there’s anyone inside that you need to come out at the end of the night you should probably go in and tell them to go home. I’m gonna block the doors in a minute.”
Spencer looks at him for a second then shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Brendon is fucking Ryan at college, my sisters are in junior high. Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay then.” As Frank opens the door and props the tank against the wall he imagines he can hear Jepha laughing. He won’t be laughing long.
Pairing: past Frank/Jepha, Jepha/OMCs
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1374
Summary: “So, I’m gonna pull a Carrie,” Frank says. Spencer seems the kind that would understand that.
Prompt used: psychotic break for angst bingo
Warnings: semi bashing of Jepha, the way an ex would discuss another ex a day after the break up. Mass off screen character death.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
A lot of the things that first go through Frank’s head are things that would get him arrested or six feet under. In the end though, all he does stalk towards Jepha’s locker, fishing the tickets out of his wallet as he goes. They’re a waste now, it’s not like he can regift them. Everyone’s in class, or skipping in the cafeteria or in the parking lot, there’s no one to see him. So Frank shoves one end through the vent in the locker and lights the edge he’s holding on fire. He’s not sure if Jepha’s wearing his claim to fame, his autographed hoodie. The heaters are on full blast in each classroom but a lot of teens don’t let climate fuck with their own personal style, he himself wears hoodies indiscriminately most of the year. Still, he sincerely hopes that it’s hanging on one of the shitty metal hooks, and by the time the fire alarm goes off it’s nothing but ash.
It’s not so much that Jepha is a cheating whore, that much Frank probably could have handled. If he’d gotten a really good apology maybe they could have had a conversation about being friends with benefits, or an open relationship. A compromise could have been devised. It’s all the other stuff that makes it worse, and worse, and worse, until Frank just wants to throw himself against the locker again and again until all his bones break.
It’s that Jepha was his first boyfriend. It had been easy to pretend he was into girls, a lifetime of movies and older cousins showing him how to properly act. Most of the time he could even get it up, if he closed his eyes and angled his body so her breasts weren’t rubbing up against him. Getting her off in return was like mowing the lawn, something that he did because he was expected to. Jepha was the first boy Frank ever approached. That night at the edge of the pit was the first time Frank was brave enough to say no, that’s what I really want. It shouldn’t be tainted like this.
It’s that Frank trusted him with his body. Jepha’d been out since sixth grade, he was hardly his first boyfriend. He was trading handjobs when Frank was making kisses overly wet so he wouldn’t taste berry flavoured lipchap. But Jepha had told him they were going to be each other’s firsts. They didn’t use condoms. Now Frank can’t help but wonder if he’s got crabs or chlamydia or something.
It’s that he didn’t realise it was being recorded when they were having sex, but now it’s online. Jepha was smart enough to not put their names on it, so the sole positive is it might not fuck them up for jobs later, like bong rip Facebook photos do. But there’s no question that everyone at school with an internet connection has seen it, there are a dozen different Mediafire accounts with it, and Frank’s pretty sure it got onto Xtube.
It’s that Frank’s completely outed. He was going to come out eventually. Probably at the end of the year, when there’d be no time left for drama or bullshit. He got beat on until he was old/pissed/reckless enough to fight back, and he’s smart enough to know that being gay is just more ammunition. Not everyone has a completely insane posse of friends to back them, Frank doesn’t have a Quinn to threaten to cut someone’s tendons so they’ll never run another play again.
It’s that maybe he was in love. Enough to weigh it against the repercussions of showing up somewhere together and still come out in the plus. That had led to him buying two tickets to the Valentine’s Day dance. Ticket that are now curling into a crisp in the bottom of Jepha’s locker.
In theory Frank’s all for the community service credit every student must earn each year. Essentially it boils down to sixty five hours of performing services for charities in the city or helping committees at school. Giving back to the community is good, Frank always spends at least half the time at a shelter passing out dinners. Even if every student has their moment of being an indentured slave for a teacher that needs a hand, it’s not like the vast majority of teachers aren’t decent people anyway.
In practice it’s only rubbing salt into the wound deeper. Less of rubbing the salt in and more blasting a bullet from a rocksalt gun ala Supernatural right into the open wound, really. Mrs Duer speaks up in homeroom asking someone to volunteer to man the ticket taking of the Valentine’s dance, lamenting that all her normal helpers all have dates and are too busy. Connor raises his hand and informs her that with Frank’s new status he’ll be available. Frank barely stops himself from launching himself over the two rows of desks to strangle the life out of Connor. It would be a waste of time though, all the other students are snickering, smirking, and outright laughing. It’s not like Connor is special in his assholishness.
He doesn’t have the right to refuse a placement. Not unless he has ethical or behavioural concerns, like how he got out of serving at the potluck because there were meat products, like how they never put him anywhere that has a jock. But there’s no dead flesh at the table he’s forced to sit at, only ticket after ticket to rip. And it’s impossible to explain he has a behavioural concern with every single douchebag that walks through the doors, dressed up fancy like they don’t all want to strip and fuck the shit out of their girlfriends or boyfriends.
Even after everyone’s in the room, he and Spencer Smith -the other teen that got roped into manning the table- have to stay. If anyone comes out drunk they’re supposed to call the cops. It’ll eat four hours of CS credit time, but there’s no question that it’s boring. Frank has a book but he can’t read it. He started reading it Before, on a recommendation from Brandon. Every word makes him want to vomit. Spencer doesn’t seem to be having the same issue with his Gameboy.
Presumably they’re supposed to be chatting, making friends with each other. Instead Frank gets up and goes outside to the double doors on the other side of the gymnasium. Beyond the metal latticed glass windows half the school are grinding to a song he can’t hear, tacky strobe lights blinking at random intervals. Frank thinks for a second, giving himself a chance to change his mind. He doesn’t. Instead he grabs a metal pole from the ever present construction across the street and threads it through the handle.
It’ll be just as easy to block the other exit. Technically there are three, the doubles to outside, the doubles to his and Spencer’s table, and the one to the change room in the basement, which has it’s own emergency exit. But that one is illegally locked, closed after too much fucking around from the football team.
Frank walks around the perimeter of the school to his car. The propane tank he stole from the barbecue is full and heavy, it’s hard to drag into the school. Spencer barely looks up from his game as he screeches it down the hall.
“So, I’m gonna pull a Carrie.” Spencer seems the kind that would understand that, his best friend gets beaten up on a regular basis. Frank doesn’t know his name, but he’s seen him in lost and found clothes more than once after his have gotten wrecked. “If there’s anyone inside that you need to come out at the end of the night you should probably go in and tell them to go home. I’m gonna block the doors in a minute.”
Spencer looks at him for a second then shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Brendon is fucking Ryan at college, my sisters are in junior high. Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay then.” As Frank opens the door and props the tank against the wall he imagines he can hear Jepha laughing. He won’t be laughing long.