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Gerard’s POV

God, I live for that kid’s smile.

Grandma went to church about an hour ago, leaving Frank and I to do as we wished for a few hours (Grandma was the type of person to go to both church and Sunday school, in addition to talking to every single woman she’d ever seen in her existence on this earth afterward. Therefore, it would be a few hours until she got back home.) I’m not much of a church-goer, so I usually just stay home and draw or write.

With Grandma gone, Frank asked me if I had any homework.

“No, since I only went to half my classes on my first day of school,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Well, whatever. You still might have had homework. So what do you want to do?” he asked, smiling with one side of his mouth.

“Do you want to hear what I really wanna do today, or do you want to hear what would be less scandalous?” I replied, smirking.

He laughed; his big, chocolate-brown eyes looking into mine with a new sparkle. “Let’s hear what Gerard Way really wants to do,” he returned the smirk, clearly reading my mind and pushing himself up on the tips of his toes, leaning in.

I pulled him closer into a kiss, and he ran his hand through my hair. I grabbed his shoulders to deepen the kiss, only to hear him inhale sharply in pain. I had completely forgotten about his bruises, and I felt awful knowing I had just hurt him.

“Oh, God, Frankie. I’m sorry,” I said, breaking the kiss, and Frankie took a few large steps back. “I forgot. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, relax,” he said, rubbing his shoulders. He didn’t look at me when he said that; he kept his eyes on the floor.

I started again, quieter. “It was an accident, Frank. I would never hurt you intentionally. I would kill myself before I ever hurt you on purpose.”

With that, he looked back up at me. “Promise?”

I looked him in the eyes to show my sincerity, something I never did until I met Frank. “I swear. I’ll never let anything hurt you, Frankie.”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my waist, buried his face into my neck, and whispered, “I love you, Gee.”

Not wanting to hurt him again, I didn’t return the hug; I held on to his elbows, which were resting somewhere near my hips. Kissing him softly on the top of his head, I told him I loved him too—God knew I meant it.

Frank's POV

I knew Gerard hadn’t meant to hurt me, but I have to say, it still scared me. That’s how my mom usually starts her rages: by grabbing a hold of my shoulders and pushing me around. With my head still buried in his neck, I felt more like a baby than a high-schooler. I didn’t care, though; at least it was Gerard.

“I have to go home today,” I said into his shirt, unsure if he could hear me.

“Hmph,” he grunted in response, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Want me to go with you?”

So he had heard me. I hugged him tighter as my answer, and he exhaled slowly, sending his hot breath down the side of my head and neck.

“What’s wrong? You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” I looked up, trying not to sound disappointed.

“No, I’ll go with you. When do you want to go back?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

He laughed. “Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather you stay here also.”

I made a face and slowly pulled away from his embrace. “Oh, by the way,” I said, nearly tripping over Pansy’s case as I tried to make my way to the couch. “I saw some of the stuff you write. You know, the stuff in the notebook in your desk? I know I shouldn’t have gone in there, but the lyrics I read were really good.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “And if you want, I can write some stuff to play, and we can make them into songs.”

He grinned. “I would like that.”

Gerard’s POV

We did nothing all day except watch movies. Day of the Dead, Halloween; I’m pretty sure we even popped Forrest Gump in (Grandma wanted to watch that with us). It was all good.

All too soon, though, it was time for Frank to go back home.

“Do you want me to drive you, dear?” Grandma asked, trying to hide the concern in her face.

“No, thanks. Gerard’s walking with me,” he answered, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Okay. Thanks for spending the weekend with us, love. Will you come by again next weekend?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Thanks so much, Elena. You’ve been more than good to me these past two days,” he said, hugging her.

“Well, I do what I can. Just remember, you’re part of our family now, so you can, by all means, stop by whenever you want to.”

“Thank you, Elena.”

“Okay, Frank. Ready?” I asked once they were done saying goodbye. I picked up his guitar case and waited for him to get his bookbag.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he replied, and he started to walk out of the door.

“Wait, Frankie,” Grandma stopped him again, reaching for her wallet in her purse. Handing him a fifty-dollar-bill, she said, “This is for this week; it should be enough for food and such. Make sure your mother gets fed properly, alright, sweetie?”

Taking the money slowly, he nodded and we were on our way.

“Gee,” he said, halfway off my street. “Thanks for keeping me this weekend. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“It’s no problem. We love having you, and you’re welcome anytime. It’s actually pretty weird, you fit in so nicely with Grandma and me. Maybe it’s a sign that you should come over more often,” I joked.

He laughed a little. “I think I definitely will be over some more, to be honest. I love you and Elena,” he said, and he slipped his fingers in between mine. We walked the whole way to his house holding hangs, his fingers laced with mine.

We arrived about five minutes later (cutting across the right backyards), and a note was on the door. I noticed it was the same piece of paper that Frank had written to his mom yesterday, only on the back side.

“My mom went to the grocery store,” he sighed, pushing the door open. His house seemed colder to me, now that I’d had a memory in it. We walked through the foyer to the kitchen, where his mom had restocked on her alcohol.

“Damn, your mom gets her shit fast, doesn’t she?” I commented, looking guiltily at the bottles of new, unopened booze sitting on the counters and table.

Frank looked at me, setting his stuff down. I put Pansy down on the couch, where I’d found her. Just then, I heard the front door swing open, and a woman with dark hair walked in, both hands full of grocery bags (both bags containing at least one new glass bottle). She placed one on the table and the other on the counter, and then turned to look at Frank. Opening her mouth to say something, she noticed me standing in the living room, covered her mouth with her hand, and ran up to the upstairs bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her.

“God, sorry you had to see that,” Frank groaned, smacking his forehead. “Sometimes that’s just what she does.”

“It’s okay. I remember days where I used to go straight home and throw up,” I said.

His face went pale, but he recovered quickly once he noticed me looking at him.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ve lived like this for seven years; I think I can make it one more week. Besides, she’s about to leave for work soon anyway.”

“Okay,” I said, looking at a clock. Sure enough, it was nearly five forty-five.

About a minute later, his mom came back down the stairs and noticed me again, looking momentarily shocked. I guess she wasn’t used to seeing anyone other than Frank or his dad in her house; I used to be like that, too. She stood in between Frank, who was on the opposite side of the kitchen that I was; and me, from where I was standing in the living room.

“Hello…” she said, looking at me and sounding confused. She seemed to regain her thoughts and said Frank's name, still looking at me. “Frank, introduce me to this boy.”

“This is Gerard Way,” he said from the other side of his mother. I couldn’t even see him because she was in the way. I nodded a hello to her. “I was at his house this weekend,” he finished.

“You were at his house this weekend?” she asked. God, she sounded distant.

“Yes, Mom. That’s why I haven’t been home since Friday.”

“Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you, Jared,” she said, turning away from me to one of the grocery bags. She pulled out a glass bottle and opened it, taking a sip. “Frank, go to the grocery store and buy us some milk.”

“Weren’t you just at the store, Mom? You didn’t remember to buy milk?”

“Don’t argue, boy. Just go get some milk.”

He began to leave the kitchen, stopping to look at me before he did. “See you at school tomorrow,” he said, and I leaned down to give him a soft kiss while his mother’s back was turned. He then made his way out the door, and I saw him cross his lawn and walk down the street.

Seeing that I was still there, Frank's mom turned around and put down her bottle quickly. “I have to go to work.”

“Okay,” I said. What the hell was I waiting for?

I watched her as she put her coat on and walked out the door, leaving me alone in her house (I’d forgotten how unsafe Frank said she could be). I turned and eyed the glass bottles that covered the table and counters, remembering what had taken place just yesterday here. I walked over to the spot where I had been, and suddenly my cell phone rang.

I answered it without bothering to look at the screen. “Hello?”

“Gerard?” A woman’s voice flowed through the line, and my blood froze in its tracks. Oh, shit.

“M-Mom?”