Hate vs. Indifference

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"Hey," Frank says, throwing his books down onto the desk next to Gerard, who's already seated with his eyes focused on the rain pattering against the window. The drops glide slowly down the glass pane and distort the shapes of the trees outside.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you scared me!" Gerard shouts when Frank's book hits the desk.

"Sorry," Frank replies, "so I didn't see you yesterday."

"I was at the dentist," Gerard replies.

"All day?" Frank asks.

"I had a cavity."

"All day?" Frank asks again.

"Fuck, I didn't want to go to school when my lip felt like it weighed four pounds, okay?" Gerard says.

"Or you were avoiding me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Gerard replies.

"That's not really what flattery is," Frank replies. "Anyway, where were you at lunch if you weren't trying to avoid me?"

"Talking to teachers," Gerard replies.

"So you just conveniently were nowhere around me for almost a day and a half plus the weekend. Interesting."

"Would you give that up?" Gerard asks, "I don't care about you. I'm not trying to avoid you, I am simply indifferent."

"Yeah?" Frank asks, "Then why are you always trying to pretend that you hate my guts."

"I do hate your guts."

"You can't be both indifferent and hate my guts at the same time," Frank says, because he's pretty sure that you have to choose one or the other. Either you don't care about someone or you hate them, but you can't hate and not care about someone.

"Yes I can."

"Well, here's a question then, if I were standing in the middle of the street and a bus were coming and I didn't see it, would you let it run me over?" Frank asks.

"I-," Gerard starts and then stops looks down at his pencil, up at the whiteboard and then over at Frank with this weird expression on his face. "Well, like, I'd warn you. I hate you but I don't want you to get hit by a fucking bus."

"So you're not indifferent and you don't hate me," Frank says.

"Yes, I do hate you, and I am indifferent, but I'm also a human and I don't want to be responsible for letting someone actually get hit by an actual fucking bus."

"Yeah but if you really were indifferent to me than you'd let me get hit, and if you really hated me you'd be taking pictures," Frank says.

"No, I just don't want a guy to get hit by a bus," Gerard says, "I'm human, I'm not a monster."

"Well you can say that all you want, but I'm taking that as an admittance that you like me."

"Like you?" Gerard asks, in an attempt to make the word 'you' sound like it's the most preposterous word that has ever been spoken by anyone, but it's not working. If Frank didn't already know that Gerard likes him, he sure would know now. Actually, he probably wouldn't. Frank is almost incapable of understanding how anyone on this planet could ever possibly like him, and it's not because he's self-conscious or anything, he just feels like everyone else is a million times better than he is. Sure that itself sounds self-conscious, but Frank falls in love with practically every stranger he meets, and he thinks the best of people and he finds it hard to believe that, out of all the billions of people in this world, why would Gerard want him? There's so many dozens of people with better senses of humor, more muscles, better voices, more talent, and everything else that you might find attractive in a person, and that just leaves him being the guy left out.

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