Gerard is begining to slip. Frank is haunted by the demons of his past
Enjoy the fall!
Gerard came back from the teachers' lounge, fresh printouts smelling of inks resting in his hands. Grin was ever present on his face.
"Fr-" he began.
But Frank was gone, the classroom empty.
How the fuck was he gone so fast? The school day was almost over, Gerard couldn't fathom where he had went off to. He knew Frank had to be close by because he hadn't been gone very long. Five minutes tops.
He ran up and down the halls, locating a boys' bathroom set aside in a corner, no all that far out. He walked inside slowly, his thick boots clomping against the shiny white tiles, an ominous sound.
He found Frank curled up in a ball, under the sinks, head bashing into his knees with every sob. Tears glistening as crystals in the fluorescent lighting. Just as his words, his sobbing was silent. So caught up in his own world, he didn't seem to notice Gerard advancing. His wheelchair lay on it's side, abandoned.
Gerard just watched on, standing there, shellshocked.
The mirrors covered in Sharpie writing that frightened Gerard.
As he neared close enough for his knees to touch Frank's shoulder, Frank look up at him with broken eyes.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Gerard asked him quietly, staring at Frank. Frank, who was so strong, could face anything, looked so small. So breakable. So already Broken.
He got down on the floor next to Frank, leaning against the wall, just barely clearing the sinks.
He pulled Frank into his lap, gently, staring at the teen for any signs of discomfort.
Frank eyes blazed straight into Gerard's.
"I just can't do it anymore." he said hoarsely, sounding like the voice of a smoker, voice breaking embarrassingly.
Gerard eyed the writing on the mirrors, finding it ran off onto the walls in places. Some of it quite Disturbing.
He looked back at Frank who's head was gently resting on his shoulder.
"You're beautiful, Frankie-Boy." he whispered, softly kissing the top of Frank's head. "Trust me."
The dreams were coming back. Worse than ever. And Frank felt so ugly. Dirty, used, tainted.
He had forgotten so much over the years, but now his subconscious would not let him. He couldn't sleep. And sometimes he just wanted to die, he was so ready to given in. At those times he would turn to Mikey. But he was almost certain he couldn't at four in the morning.
He fingered his phone, tucked safely under his pillow. Perhaps he could?
He fell into a mundane sleep to the pressing sound of dial tones.
They were all gathered around Mikey's living room. Mikey's friends scattered about the room. Most we plastered already. Playing Wii and laughing at their own extreme terribleness. Frank was watching from the corner. He was slowly sipping at his own drink. Content to stay in his own right of mind.
Frank was hunched over on his knees, drawing on cement steps with a large hunk of sky blue sidewalk chalk. It was a nice day, the breeze ruffling his short hair. The grit of the sidewalk was digging into his legs uncomfortably, but he was too enthralled in his picture to mind. He was drawing the perfect family. Living in a house up on the hill, with puffy white clouds, and clear blue skies. With his mommy, him, and a happy daddy. And the sun was smiling down on them.
He heard the whoosh of the apartment complex door shutting and heels clacking along. He looked up with mild disinterest to find his mother walking out, wearing her nice clothes.
"Mama! Don't leave me!" He squealed his arms wrapped desperately around her leg.
She tried to soothe the young child's worries, "Aw, baby, I have to work. I'll be back in a couple of hours. But your daddy'll be here to look after you."
"I know." young Frank whimpered, clinging tighter to her pants leg.
He walked into their apparent, his mother keeping a watchful eye on him. Tears glistened on his flushed cheek as he rubbed them away desperately.
His father set down the dishtowel he had been drying his hands on, and grinned a sleazy grin, "Well, aren't we precious?" He whispered to a cringing Frank.
He took the small boy's hand and pressed it to his crotch. Moaning as Frank shivered...
"Hey, man, you o...Kay?" Mikey said as he wobbled and snapped his fingers in front of his best friend's face.
So is that okay? Is it cliché? I'm just never sure anymore...
Anyway. I have been gone alooooong time, I know.
I'm going on an eight hour each way trip, and taking a 200 page notebook, so hopefully I will make some actual PROGRESS!