A/N: I started school again so the updates might be a little slower. Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out-wish it was a little bit longer but I got what I needed to say.

Chapter Seven

"Hey… can we talk about Thursday?"

Frank resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had been purposely avoiding Peter the past few days for that exact reason-the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. Everyone, however-his mother, his therapist, and now Peter-was antagonizing him about it.

However, his hiding spot was a library, and he should've expected that to be Peter's second home anyways.

"No," Frank responded bluntly, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Peter stood there for a moment, shuffling his feet, before finally speaking up.

"Look, I'm not sure why you showed up but-"

"I thought we weren't talking about this-"

"And its okay that you showed up but next time, I at least need some sort of… well, warning, I guess. A call would've been fine. I can't have people just randomly showing up at my house. My grandma was pretty pissed that you were there-"

"We're not talking about this."

"Well I said what I wanted to say anyways," Peter said, shrugging. "You don't need to explain your intentions. I just-I needed you to at least know that part of it."

Frank leaned back against the bookshelf, studying Peter's words for a moment.

"Does she hate company or something?"

Peter didn't respond. He could tell that Frank was trying to shift back the focus of the conversation back on Peter. Deciding he didn't mind, he decided to go with Frank's scheme.

"She was never really good about me having friends," he explained, shrugging. "I mean, I had friends in grade school but I was never allowed over or had sleepovers-that sort of thing."

"Sounds like a pain in the ass."

"It's kind of annoying sometimes… I think its part of the reason why I never bothered to make friends here after I was singled out as an outcast. It was too much trouble. But I understand that my grandma just gets worried."

"About what?" Frank asked.

"Well… I dunno. A lot of things I guess. My grandma's old. She doesn't understand younger people at all. She just assumes what she hears on the news-that kids just sit around and do drugs, drink and have sex and all of that. I dunno. She just worries about everything."

"Have you ever?" Frank asked curiously. Peter seemed cautious.

"Done what?"

"Any of those things."

"Well, I did try weed once," Peter admitted sheepishly. "That was a long time ago though. It was a bad idea. I was too nervous. It just isn't for me," he added, clearly embarrassed. Frank made a strange, quiet huff-a noise that Peter had learned was Frank's special way of showing his amusement. Peter frowned. "Its not that funny."

"It kind of is," Frank admitted, smirking. "I never imagined you doing any of those things. Most of all, getting high. Its pretty funny."

"I'm not that proud of it," Peter insisted.

"I can tell," Frank said, rolling his eyes. He didn't get what the big deal was. "And for the record you don't need to excuse yourself. I'm not exactly the person to judge you anyways."

"I know," Peter said, though he had a defeated sound in his voice.

"Usually its kids like you that end up using it the most-its from all that pressure."

"Pressure?"

"Yeah, pressure," Frank said, emphasizing the word as though Peter had said somethign foolish. "Pressure from strict old dust bags like your grandma."

"She doesn't pressure me. She's strict but I don't think she has any high expectations for me. In fact, I think her lack of faith in me allows little room for high expectations," Peter admitted, sounding adamant.

"You always have perfect grades and shit."

"That's because I have nothing outside of school," Peter confessed. "Its not like I have tons of friends or anything. Besides, with good grades, maybe that will get me somewhere."

It was quiet for a moment. As they stood there, Frank noticed the way Peter gazed off-tilting his head back against the shelf behind him, a slightly wistful look in his eye. Frank wondered for a moment if he ever shared that same look, considering all the times he had tried to run away.

"What about you?"

"What?" Frank asked. He had zoned out.

"Have you gotten high?"

"Yeah."

"Ever gotten drunk?"

"Unfortunately. Its awful."

"Have you ever done it?"

"Yeah, a couple times, but I'm not telling you about it just so you can get off on it."

"I was just asking if you had," Peter said, trying not to look embarrassed.

"No one ever asks without wanting to hear the story," Frank insisted, speaking matter of factly. Peter opened his mouth to argue but Frank cut him off, "No one."

"Were you pretty popular at Morris?"

"No? I didn't sleep with anyone at my school, if that's what you're asking."

"I can't imagine you with a girlfriend," Peter said, thinking. He couldn't imagine Frank being cutesy and romantic with some girl. Couldnt imagine them on a date, buying flowers, playing footsie, cuddling…

The more he thought about it, the weirder it seemed. Peter shuddered slightly.

"That's because I never had a girlfriend."

"Hmm? So you just hooked up with some random girls?"

Frank looked at Peter for a long moment before finally shaking his head to himself. Peter sensed that he had said the wrong thing.

"You're an idiot," Frank said curtly.

"How am I an idiot?" Peter asked confused. Frank didn't delve into it.

"I do know some easy girls though. They'd probably even fuck a virgin loser like you. If you were interested. I can't promise that they're clean though. Or sane."

"Er, no thanks," Peter said, looking uncomfortable. Frank shrugged.

"Did you have a lot of friends at Morris?"

"Friends? Not really. I knew a lot of people but I only had one friend."

"The same person who drew that fish right?"

"Its a bird," Frank corrected. "And yes." Peter seemed to be lost in thought but didn't say anything. Frank barked, "If you have something to say just spit it out."

"What was his name?"

"Its no one you know."

"Yeah, I figured as much, but I was just wondering."

"Why do you want to know?" Frank said cautiously.

"I was just wondering," Peter said, awkwardly. "Sorry, you don't have to say if you don't want to. I didn't mean to pry."

Frank just shook his head. Peter dealt out apologies more than a blackjack dealer dealt cards. Sometimes Frank wondered if "sorry" even meant anything to Peter anymore, or if feeling sorry was just second nature to him.

"Louis."

"I see. I was just curious. You still talk to him?"

"No," Frank said after considering Peters question.

"Why not? Is it because you go here now?"

Frank didn't respond. Peter could tell that Frank had enough talking about himself. Peter had begun to observe that Frank barely talked about himself but, once in awhile, he would mention something about Louis-the mystery friend who, until this point, was unnamed.

Although, when mentioned, it was always said with a quiet reluctance.

"You seem to talk about him more than you talk about yourself," Peter told him. Frank shrugged.

"That's because there is no difference."

Peter blinked, confused.

"Louis made me. Everything I do is just a mock imitation of him. He is me," Frank expanded. Peter still looked lost but Frank didn't go into any more detail than that. It didn't matter anyways-the library assistant caught them and shooed them out.

"Oh, I forgot to mention it to you earlier, but I finished your CDs," Peter said during lunch. Frank didn't say anything, he just snaked a hand toward Peter's tray and stole his cinnamon roll. Peter didn't bother to comment on it-he was used to Frank stealing parts of his lunch at that point.

"What'd you think?" Frank asked when he noticed Peter wasn't going to continue.

"It was interesting... kind of... loud."

"That's what its supposed to be," Frank said mid-chew.

"Yeah, I dunno. I still liked it and-"Peter was interrupted mid sentence when a piece of paper, rolled up into a ball, hit his temple. Both he and Frank looked in the direction in which it came from, noticing a table snickering.

The name calling and the shoving had never stopped. Aside from that one day, when Frank had fought off Peter's attackers, Frank never got involved. It was Peter's business, after all, and Peter tended to ignore it, so Frank only did the same.

But lately it really ticked him off. So when he found the guy who had thrown the piece of paper, he immediately got to his feet. A flash of fear struck the guy's face when he noticed Frank's infuriated expression. Peter stopped him, however, grabbing Frank by the arm.

"What's with you? Calm down," Peter said, trying to get Frank back to his seat. Frank shrugged of Peter's arm. "This is really unlike you," Peter noted. "Besides, its not that big of a deal. They're just being stupid."

Unlike him? It was out of character. But how did Peter figure what was like him and what wasn't? Frank wondered about these things a lot lately. He wondered if he was getting too close to this kid, especially lately.

A small, inexplicable sense of fear overcame him. He quickly stormed out of the room. Peter looked around, in disbelief at what was happening, before grabbing his bag and chasing after him.

"Where are you going?"

Frank ignored the question, stomping through the corridors. He wasn't quick enough to get away from Peter, who grabbed him by the shoulder. Frank swatted Peter's hand away.

"What's with you?" Peter asked again, holding on to his stinging hand.

"What's wrong with you?" Frank challenged. "How can you just sit there when people act like fucking assholes to you?"

"I guess I just don't let it get to me," Peter said, half shrugging. "You shouldn't let it get to you either."

"I should've just pounded that guy's face in," Frank said. With the expression on his face, Peter could tell that it wasn't a bluff. Peter tried to hide his concern.

"But why? Its not that big of a deal," Peter tried to reason. "Why do you act like this? Most times you don't seem to care at all-but just now, you seemed so quick to pick a fight."

"Its not without reason. Every single one of them deserves a good punch to the skull," Frank snapped. Peter waited, as if expecting more. Frank sighed irritably. "What the fuck are you expecting me to say?"

"I guess I just don't understand," Peter said, shrugging. "I see people who get mad. But I never see people who act on it so often."

I can't help it. They're impulses I can't control, would've been the correct thing to say. For a moment, the thought crossed Frank's mind, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He still had enough pride to hold in anything that made him sound like some sort of uncontrollable animal.

But maybe he already looked like that.

"You get your face beat in every other week. You ever ask them why?" Frank started. Peter glared at Frank. Frank always said cutting remarks without any reaction. But it seemed like he had hit a soft spot.

Any other time, Frank would have considered backing off. But this time, the thought of it didn't even cross his mind. Something about Peter had been getting on his nerves lately.

"Do you even care anymore when they do it or do you just get off on the pain? Or are you just some scared pissant who can't stand up for himself?" Frank prodded. Peter looked at the floor, clearly irritated, but didn't say anything. Frank kept going. "Probably couldn't fucking do anything anyways. Too much of weakass twat. Spent too much time growing up being coddled by some old cunt."

Frank knew he had gone too far but he didn't really know how to stop. Peter shook his head to himself and walked away. Frank felt neither relief or disappointment.

Peter hadn't talked to Frank for days afterwards. He didn't even bat an eye when they passed each other in the halls. And Frank honestly never expected Peter to talk to him again. He simply slipped back into his old ways just as easily as Peter had left.

It could've been said that he had missed the company. But Frank had preferred solitude anyways. The only difference with Peter is that he preferred his company to other peoples'.

But Frank felt little remorse with him not being around. But eventually, when Peter came back, he didn't push him away either.

"Sorry," he had said to him, to which Frank had responded by staring blankly at him. Peter just bristled at the neutral reaction-his ears turning slightly red as he awkwardly tried to explain himself, "You always yell at me not to dig into personal things. I was asking too many questions. I'm sorry."

Frank just looked back at the ground. Wasn't he the one who had gone too far? Wasn't he the one who should've been apologizing? But Frank knew that he would never own up to it-Peter must've known that too.

As Frank looked at the grounds of the courtyard, he noticed it hadn't snowed for awhile but the grass was still dead and frozen. Peter stood there awkwardly as he waited for a response.

"I dont know what else to say. So I guess I just-"

"Shut the fuck up already," Frank said with an irritated sigh. Peter looked bewildered-and also confused on whether or not Frank was pushing him away.

"Are-are we okay then?" Peter asked.

"I dunno. Are we?" Frank responded.

And that was that-a rather short lived fight. Frank said things without thought or care but Peter was quick to forgive. In the end, it was Peter's ability to forgive which allowed him to get close to abrasive characters like Frank.

As to why Frank always let Peter back in, he was still sorting that out.