Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
This is slash. Don't like, don't read.
I originally posted this on "my LiveJournal":http://mcrvampy.livejournal.com/ in eight parts but it's all in one on here.
The italics are parts that happened in the past, like memories.
*
I hate airplanes. Hate them. So does Gee. But here he is, sitting beside me, holding my hand because he knows they terrify me so much. He knows I hate the thoughts of how many things could go wrong. But that doesn't stop me from getting on the plane. I have to be brave, at least for a little while.
About an hour into the flight, a man comes from the bathroom with a mask over his face. He has a gun and there are several others, all of them shouting for everyone to shut up and let them take over. Gerard squeezes my hand and whispers to me that everything will be alright and that there is no way he'll let me die.
One of the terrorists hits him roughly in the back and snaps, "Shut up!" Gerard merely nods and bites his lip, looking away from me. He doesn't want to upset the terrorists; he has to take care of me and he knows there is no way I can make it through without him.
The terrorists start barking orders and the one that hit Gerard grabs him up by the arm and spits, "I'm going to shoot you if you don't do whatever the fuck I say." Gerard just nods, knowing better than to protest or argue.
After a couple minutes, the unknown man hands him some black box-ish thing that has assorted buttons and wires. "Hold this and don't press any buttons or do anything to it. Just hold it," the man says. Gerard nods and looks down at it. "It's a bomb and I can make it go off and take us all down to our motherfucking graves with the push of a button so you better fucking behave."
He's obviously the leader. Gerard nods again and continues looking at the bomb he's clutching tightly in his hands. And I'm so fucking scared because we're all going to die. This is just as I'd feared. Why me? Why us? I just want to scream that I was right all along and whatever god might be out there is so fucking cruel.
My hands are shaking and I know Gerard has to be more scared than I am because he's holding everyone's lives in his hands--one wrong move and he could be responsible for the death of over a hundred people. The terrorist sat down beside me in Gerard’s seat and I'm possibly even more afraid.
Now Gerard is watching us and the terrorist whispers in my ear, "Behave, dear." I shudder and he asks loud enough for others to hear, "What's your name, pretty?"
"Mikey," I say quietly, shy and even more afraid then before. Why did he have to single us out? At least I know my brother isn't going to do anything stupid, no matter what this man does to me. He knows that he can't risk the lives of everyone else just for me because if that bomb goes off, we'll all die. It would make sense that he'd rather I got hurt than I died.
The terrorist strokes my cheek and it seems almost affectionate but at this point, I'm convinced that anyone brutal enough to be able to kill so many people and himself so mercilessly can never feel any such feelings. I hope he doesn't have any kids or a wife back home because really, who could ever love a terrorist? "I didn't hear you. You'll have to speak up."
I bite my lip, holding back tears. I'm only fourteen. I shouldn't be forced to sit through something like this. "Mikey," I say louder.
He smiles. "That's a good boy with such a pretty name." I can see Gerard gritting his teeth, tempting to strangle this man. "How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
He nods and strokes my hair this time. "You're so young and beautiful." He kisses my cheek and it would seem innocent if I actually wanted it. But I don’t and I don't want to be here--I just want to be somewhere, anywhere, else. "Is he your lover?" He motions to Gerard and I shake my head. "Your brother?" I nod and he smiles. "You're both so beautiful."
Then the pilot's voice comes over the speaker. "I'd just like you to all remain calm and do what the men say. Please don't make any hasty decisions. The plane will be landing in Chicago." The flight was meant to go all the way to California. The pilot sounds so calm but I know he's probably got a gun to his head as he says these things. I can't calm down.
I close my eyes as the terrorist whispers in my ear, "I'm Frank but you can call me Frankie. I'm only fifteen." A fifteen-year-old kid was threatening to kill us all? I mean, I understood that some teenagers went a psycho and killed people because they were bullied but seriously!? I hadn't heard of them blowing up planes because someone hurt them.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Because I can. Because I want to. Does it matter?"
I was shaking with fear and maybe a little anger. "You're going to kill people just because you can?" I ask, a tear sliding down my cheek.
"It’s more complicated than that, Mikey. I'd explain it to you but it'll take a while and we'll be landing soon.” I just nod and look out the window, wanting to imagine I'm anywhere but here. "Mikey," he whispers and touches my leg, my thigh. "Mikey, I want someone to love me." I turn back to him. "Mikey, I want you to love me, to like me, to need me like you need your brother."
"Gee's all I have," I say automatically and I wish I didn't almost immediately.
He looks over at my brother with a hurt expression. "But you have to love me."
I shake my head. "I can't. I don't know you."
His lip quivers and I wonder how he even knows me. "If I kill him, you'll have only me, won't you?" Something in his eyes is animal, desperate, needy.
I just shake my head. "I can never love you."
Frank turns to look at Gerard. Gerard glares at him. Frank is pointing his gun at Gee and his hand is shaking as tears start to fall. "Why you?" he asks quietly.
"He's my brother," Gerard says simply.
People have started talking again and Frank stands up suddenly and screams, "SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU! JUST SHUT UP!" He looks insane, like he's having a mental breakdown, and he pulls the trigger.
*
The guy who killed my brother--Frank Iero--was put away in a mental hospital, labeled to be insane. If he wasn't 'insane' he would've been put to death. And it hurt me to know that my brother was dead and that he was still alive in some mental hospital in New Jersey, unable to hurt people but still alive. It's not that I wanted him to die--I wasn't that cruel and couldn't even wish that upon him--but I wished he could've died instead of Gerard.
My parents weren't exactly the best and all I'd really had was Gee, all my life. And suddenly he was gone. I'd watched him fall to floor, clutching at his stomach as blood seeped from between his lips. And I haven't spoken since. I can't find the words to say, the words that will express my pain. And Frank told me to shut up, told us all to shut up. I don't want to end up like Gerard. He died for me and I don’t want to meet the same fate.
School is starting and in homeroom, Mr. Tuck calls me up to his desk. I know this can't be good because he absolutely hates me but I don't question it and just walk up, watching him carefully. That's how I watch everyone, even though it’s been three years. "The principal wants to see you. He says it’s important."
I nod and silently leave the room and head in the direction of the office. This is probably just another update on Frank’s condition--they always notify me when he seems to be making progress or he starts regressing again. I don't think it's anything too very special but I know one of these days Frank will feel guilty. Someday he'll realize just what he's done. Or so I hope.
Mr. Renalds is a married man. That doesn't mean he doesn't sleep with a select few students he likes. In exchange for the sex, the students get better grades. I'm pretty good at keeping my grades up, but there was a point where they slipped, just after Gee died. Mr. Renalds asked me time and time again during that time if I wanted to do that. He scares me almost as much as Frank.
"We were notified earlier this morning that Frank Iero escaped from the institution he was being kept at. You are to be taken into protective custody, even though there is no way to be certain if he is going to come after you or not." I feel like he just slugged me in the gut and all I can think is God, please, no.
A police officer is standing behind me and he puts his hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay. We'll keep you safe from this psycho." But I don't think they can. Frank was in such a high security place--no one had escaped from it before. He could probably get past a few officers. I still remain silent, not wanting to disobey Frank because I'm just that scared of him.
The officer takes me over to the jail and I feel more like I'm being held against my will rather than being protected. I don't have to sit in a cell or anything but I have to sit with a couple officers nearby, making sure I don't get killed while they're standing close by. I feel like they don't really care, like they're just trying to keep me alive because it's their job. I'm probably right.
It's not that I don't like police officers but my issue with them is how many times they've failed me already: there were officers on the plane and my brother still got shot; there were officers in the airport and Frank still took me back to his house and kept me there for three days; there were officers at Frank’s house and he still cut my stomach open; there were officers at the mental hospital and he still got away; and there are officers at the police station but Frank is still going to get me.
I want to sob and breakdown but I know that the officers aren't going to understand and that crying would make Frank upset; it was just as loud--if not louder--as talking. I just silently look down at my hands in my lap and wish that the past three years never happened. I'd still have Gerard with me, taking care of me, and I wouldn’t be sitting here, afraid of a man only a year older than me.
I can't believe it when Frank walks right into the police station casually, like he's not a wanted man. I avert my eyes from him, hoping he might not recognize me but he comes straight over to me and no one stops him. "Listen, I"m his uncle and I came here to take him home," he says, showing an officer his fake ID. I'm getting a sinking feeling in my stomach because I know they'll fall for it and I can't say a word.
"He should stay in protective custody," an officer says but Frank shakes his head.
"He'll be fine. I'll take care of him." He smiles at me and takes my hand. "C'mon, Mikey, we're going home." I glance back at the officers, giving them a 'how-can-you-be-so-blind?' look. Frank just keeps leading me along, his fingers twined with mine like I'm his lover--he wants me to be his lover.
I find myself shaking and I squeeze his hand tightly. He may be a psychotic terrorist who once kidnapped me but I feel like I'm going to breakdown and I just need something to hold onto. "They said I was never gonna be allowed to see you again," Frank says and he looks genuinely sad.
I feel almost guilty but then I think about the way my brother looked like when he was lying on the floor of the airplane, dying. I can't feel sorry for Frank--he's just hurt me too much for me to ever feel anything but anger towards him.
*
Frank has a new home, a new hideout to keep me in. It’s not as nice as his last one but I’m not going to complain. At least he’s not keeping me tied up or anything—I’m allowed to roam the house. He tells me he wants to let me leave the house even but he’s too afraid I won’t come back and he’s right—if he lets me leave, I’m going to run and never look back.
I’ve mostly been sleeping in the same bed as Frank, unable to fall asleep until long after he has, and sleeping most of the day. He always wakes up before me and today he’s shaking me gently. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he says. I groan and turn over, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. “Mikey, we’re going out today!”
I open my eyes just a crack to look at him and he’s smiling down at me. The last time I was being held captive by him, he was usually freaking out over something small or maybe something that actually was a big deal—he even felt guilty for killing Gee—but now he’s different. He’s almost always smiling and holding my hand or kissing me on the cheek and it would look cute but really, it just seems to show how fucked up he is.
He hands me a piece of paper to write on. ‘Where do you want to go?’ I ask, looking at him questioningly. He hasn’t left me alone since I got here and I know we’re going to start running low on food and he should probably try to get a job but he never goes out.
Frank shrugs. “Lots of places. We gotta get food and we have to visit the cemetery and we have to go buy flowers but that’s before we go to the cemetery and we have to go to the hospital and I have to get you registered for school under a different name ‘cause the cops are looking for us both and I still have to get registered for school too.” He’s rambling, like he doesn’t remember how to talk the way he did before.
‘Frank, what happened to you?’ I write, finding that I’m actually concerned. I was told he was getting better and that he was making a lot of progress. But he seems so different and even worse than before. I don’t even register that he said a word about a cemetery, just that he’s so different now and it’s been bugging me for the past six days I’ve been with him.
He just shrugs again. “I found you,” he says with a smile but I know it’s something else. Something changed him, fucked him up more than before. “C’mon, you gotta get up so we can go.” I nod and get out of bed, grabbing some of Frank’s clothes to put on. When I’m fully clothed, I turn to Frank and he smiles happily, taking my hand and leading me outside.
First we go to a school I’ve never heard of and he registers us both, saying that he’s my legal guardian and showing a whole bunch of fake ID’s to the woman in the office. Apparently, my name is now Mikey Connor, which sounds weird to me but I don’t object. He signs the papers and shit and his ID says he’s nineteen so he’s an adult and he can sign. But he’s still young enough to be allowed to go to high school.
Then we go to a greenhouse and he’s looking through flowers and flowers and flowers. He wants me to help him find something but I don’t want to pick out flowers for him. I want to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. Finally he picks out a few pretty flowers, some kind of white flower that looks pretty but simple.
And then it’s on to the cemetery. I didn’t think he was being serious about that but here we are, standing in the midst of all these graves. This is the cemetery that Gerard was buried in but Frank is looking for someone else’s grave. He gives me two of the flowers he’s holding and says quietly, “Go find your brother. Tell him one’s from me and that I’m sorry.”
I scowl but nod and go straight to where I know my brother is buried. I sit down in front of his tombstone and trace my fingers over it. I haven’t been here since his funeral because I couldn’t bear to return. It looks like no one has, not even my parents. I want to cry, seeing his name etched into the stone forever, the green mossy shit making it hard to read the words.
I start wiping it away, hating that it’s defacing my brother’s grave. I’ll stay here all day if I have to. My nails break and my fingers start to bleed but I don’t care if that’s what it takes to show someone cares that he’s dead. I’ve already dropped the flowers on the green grass. I feel Frank’s hand on my shoulder and he says softly, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
He helps me get the rest off and I read the words on it over and over again but they don’t seem right. “Beloved son and brother” just doesn’t seem to work. Yes, I loved him—still do—but my parents never really appreciated him for who he was. I write down, ‘Do you have a knife?’ He looks wary.
Frank hands it to me and watches silently as I carve new words underneath the old too-perfect ones: I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone. It feels right, like something he would say or think up. And sure, he feared a lot of things but he was a lot stronger than I will ever be. I haven’t killed myself despite how much I miss him and that’s something, I suppose. This could only ever really make sense to someone who really knew Gerard.
My captor wraps his arms around me. “I bet he’d be so proud of you,” he says. I just nod silently. I want to talk to him again, tell him how much I still love him.
*
Frank and I seem to be on good terms now. I’m still not talking but something about Frank is so different and just wrong. This isn’t the kid that shot my brother; this is someone different altogether and it’s not Frank. Those people in that mental hospital place did something to him that fucked him up more than he was before. Not that the constant happiness and what I suppose could be called loving gestures were bad things. It was just that he didn’t seem real and it wasn’t Frank.
“You okay?” Frank asks when we’re lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. I don’t even really feel quite so uncomfortable sharing a bed with him anymore—I just don’t feel like I can sleep until I know he’s not going to slit my throat in my sleep or something. This new Frank is unpredictable. The one that held me captive before had a specific way of acting that I understood but now the game has changed.
I sigh and turn to face him, nodding. “Why don’t you talk anymore? Your voice is so pretty,” he says and I look away. Should I tell him it’s because of what he did? Will it make him angry? Sad? Guilty? I don’t know and I don’t feel like risking his wrath if he doesn’t like to hear it.
I put my back to him, just wanting to go to sleep and maybe wake up in the morning and find out this whole thing has been a big fucked up dream. But he puts an arm around my waist and my back is pressed into his warm chest. “Mikey,” he whispers and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget about all this, trying to make it all suddenly be different.
“Mikey,” he says again. His voice is calm, not angry like I’d have expected from the old Frank. “Mikey, answer me.”
Frustrated, I snatch up the notepad on the nightstand and scribble down hurriedly, ‘You’. I shove back at him before getting up, grabbing one of the blankets that had been layered on top of us both, and heading into the living room to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to be around him at all for the time being. He seems to understand and for once he just leaves me alone.
In the morning, Frank doesn’t mention it again and I’m glad—I don’t want to talk about Gerard again or what Frank did. It was bad enough that Frank took me to see his grave. “I remember I told you to call me Frankie and you called me Frank just to spite me,” he says suddenly, even though he’s quiet—it’s just so random and abrupt. But I remember too.
“Did you know that I tried to look like it didn’t bother me even though it did?” he asks and I shake my head in reply. He smiles faintly. “I still want you to love me, Mikey.” He puts his hands around my waist and lays his head on my back, between my shoulder blades. “Please,” he whispers. I close my eyes and I wonder if he’ll leave me alone if I say yes or if it’ll just make things worse.
His fingers are playing with my hair and he buries his face in my back. “Please Mikey, I need you.” Before, he was the one that wanted me to need him. So needing me was something new, although I guess that’s the way it had sorta been before. I pull out of his arms and he doesn’t even try to stop me. I don’t know why he’s not.
I look back at him and he’s just watching me with watery eyes and I can’t believe he’s seriously about to cry. Again, I find myself almost feeling bad. This is a different Frank. This is a Frank that’s been in a mental hospital that was helping him get ‘better’. This is a Frank that actually seems to maybe feel sorry for what he’s done.
But I force myself to remember that Gerard’s blood is on his hands and I shake my head. I can’t love him. I just can’t. And I don’t think he’s going to stop me so I just head straight out the front door, forcing myself not to look back at him. Hearing his pitiful sobs is enough; I don’t want to see it too.
I’m free and he’s actually letting me leave. I should be happy about this. I should be afraid he’ll change his mind but something tells me he isn’t going to force me to stay after this. I should be calling my parents and telling them I’m okay, that they haven’t lost both of their sons to Frank Iero. But something in me feels broken and like I’m making a mistake, leaving Frank by himself to figure out his own problems.
They said he’s insane but he seems to be fine to me. But then again, he doesn’t even know me and he acts like I should love him anyways. I close my eyes and sigh, turning to look back at his house. I just shake my head as if to cleanse it of all Frank-related thoughts before turning back the way I’m headed and going in what I believe is the direction of my own home. My parents will find out I’m alive soon enough.
As I’m walking along streets I realize I was never really too far from home. Frank’s house is just on a street I rarely travel down. It’s raining and I think about how stupid it is that in every movie ever made it starts raining as soon as things start getting sad. It’s ridiculous and I can’t help but think that Frank’s probably still standing there in his house, looking out the door like he was when I left, probably hoping that if he stares long enough I’ll come back and tell him I love him.
But I can’t love him. He’s a terrorist—is that even the right term for what he is?—and he killed my brother. Frank took away everything that mattered to me and now I’m alone—he’s right, I only have Frank now—and I can’t forgive him for that. I sigh as I knock on my own front door, even though I know where we hide the key. I just can’t be with someone who hurt me so much.
I just can’t.
*
It’s two weeks of being at home with my parents smothering me before I’m allowed to go back to school. And even then I still feel somehow empty, despite being surrounded by so many people again. I still feel guilty for leaving Frank all by himself to cry. When I lost Gerard and Frank took me away from my family, I at least had been able to cry around him.
“Mikey, are you okay?” Frank asks. I shake my head, wanting to hit him for being so stupid. I just watched my brother get murdered before my very eyes! How could I be okay after that!? He wraps his arms around me as I start to cry. “It’s okay, Mikey. You’ll have me forever.”
I snap out of it, forcing the memories from my mind. The thing is, he promised me he’d be there for me forever. That was more than anyone else ever gave me, even Gerard. And he was labeled insane but he wasn’t really that bad, when you think about it. Except I’m trying not to think about it and yet he seems to haunt me now. He always has but I know he’s still out there somewhere, probably lonely.
And I still can’t help but wonder whose grave he was at the cemetery to see, since he went somewhere else while I visited Gee’s grave. I can’t help but wonder who he’s lost or if maybe he was just going to give me privacy. But when he came over to help me clean it off, his flower was gone so he had to have put it somewhere.
Again, I’ve gotten distracted and now Mr. Tuck is introducing a new student. I look up and there is Frank, standing at the front of the class. Is he really this stupid!? The police are out looking for him and he really thinks he can just show up at my school as a new student? I sigh as he sits down beside me but it’s not anywhere near as loud as speaking so it’s okay.
Frank smiles at me warmly even though everyone’s staring at him. When I don’t smile back he looks back down at his laps and I see the smile turn into a frown. He looks genuinely sad again and I’m worried about him. He’s been all alone for two weeks and he’s ‘insane’. When people have finally stopped staring or looking at us, I reach over and squeeze his hand briefly before turning away altogether. Maybe it’s better if he isn’t around me but I can’t help but at least try to comfort him a little bit.
“Mikey, you know that no matter what I’ll love you forever, right?” Frank asks. I just look away. Why does he always do these things to me? “Mikey, you have to love me too. You don’t have anyone else.” He looks me in the eyes, pleading with me. “Don’t you understand, Mikey? I did this for us.” I want to tell him there is no ‘us’ but I keep quiet, not sure if that’ll set him off or not.
The rest of the school day is almost normal but Frank’s trailing along behind me like a lost puppy. And maybe he is lost and just needs some help but I can’t deal with him right now, maybe not ever. I don’t feel like it’s worth the effort or maybe I just don’t care—at least, that’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself of since I left him all by himself.
When school’s over, he follows me home and I let him inside and lead him down to Gerard’s room, if you could call it a room. It’s just the basement but my family hasn’t really been down here since his death. My father wants to make it ‘useful’ but my mother actually gave a fuck about Gee so she won’t let him. So everything’s the way it was before.
I don’t know why I take him to Gee’s room but he looks around it for a while, not touching anything, before he says, “This was his room, wasn’t it?” But it’s not really a question, the way he says it. I nod anyways and sit down on Gerard’s bed. The sheets aren’t clean and they still smell like him. I feel like crying but I still stay silent.
Frank leans over me and his eyes are big and remind me so much of how he used to be. I can’t believe I miss the way he used to act like before he was in the mental hospital and I can’t believe I think they fucked him up worse somehow.
“Mikey, would you let me kiss you?” he asks. I just turn away, choosing not to answer. Even if I say no, he’ll insist on it. “Please Mikey, I want to take this at your speed.” I just bite my lip. Since when did he care about what I want? I want my brother back. I want to go home. I want to be somewhere else. He looks down at me and I close my eyes, just waiting. His lips are soft against mine and like on the plane, the kiss would be innocent if I actually wanted it.
“Mikey, would you let me kiss you?” he asks and I feel like I’m reliving the past and this time I just slowly nod. If I go along with this, maybe it’ll be easier for us both. Frank leans in and presses his lips gently to mine. I find myself kissing back, strangely enough, and his hand is cupping my cheek now and this is just nothing like I thought it would be.
I hear my mother calling, “Mikey, it’s nearly time for dinner!”
She doesn’t know Frank’s here and she doesn’t even know if I’m home safely or not and I force my lips away from Frank’s, even though I really don’t want to. He takes my hand and twines his fingers with mine. “Will you finally talk to me now?” he asks. I look away, not wanting to answer that, even though the answer is still the same. He sighs and says softly, “C’mon, you’re mom’s gonna start worrying.”
I nod and we both get up and head upstairs again. “Mikey, who’s your friend?” my mom asks and I just shrug. She sighs and returns to setting the table like she’d been doing before. I know she worries about me but I can’t talk. I just can’t anymore. “He can stay for dinner if he wants to.”
Frank smiles and nods. “Thank you, Mrs. Way.”
“Anytime, dear.” I’ m so glad she hasn’t recognized him.
*
“So Frank, how’d you meet Mikey?” my mother asks conversationally but I noticed the way she got nervous after she find out his name. She watches Frank expectantly as I just bite my lip nervously.
Frank smiles warmly at her and for a moment, he seems almost normal, like a friend I’ve brought home from school. But because I rarely talk, I also rarely make friends. The only people I really hung out with before were people that were Gerard’s friends. “I’m a new student and we sit together in homeroom.”
She smiles and nods, looking down at her food. This is all just an act; she hates company. I want to find a way to stop this interrogation but I know my mother won’t let that happen. “So where’d you move from?”
“Oh, I’ve lived in New Jersey all my life. Just transferred schools.”
“That’s nice. You can spend the night if you like. I can call your parents for you.”
Frank immediately shakes his head. “My parents are dead,” he says quietly and looks away. “I live with my grandma.” I know that’s a lie but maybe it was his parents’ graves he was visiting in the cemetery. Although he only brought one flower.
“I’m sorry. Would you like me to call her?”
Frank sighs. “I’ll just do it myself.” He gets up and leaves.
My mom looks at me and I know she’s worried. “Mikey, you’d tell me if he was the one, wouldn’t you?” She knows I could never forget Frank’s face. She knows it’s been burned into my memories. I just nod and I hate lying to her but when Frank comes back and sits down beside me with a smile, I feel like it might just be worth it. I don’t want Frank to be stuck in a mental institution again because I’m starting to like him, maybe.
“So, what did she say?” my mother asks.
“She told me I can.” He looks down at his food with a sigh and then lapses into silence, seeming to ignore the rest of the questions my mother throws at him. My mom eventually huffs and shuts up. Underneath the table, Frank takes my hand. I don’t pull away or protest. Maybe I’ve changed my mind about him since I left him. He just looked so broken and I can’t get him out of my mind.
He lets go of my hand when he excuses himself and puts his dishes in the sink. I finish my food a couple minutes after him and this time I lead him up to my room. It’s kinda the same as Gee’s but not quite so dark and actually has a carpet. He looks around for a minute like he did in Gerard’s room and then he sits on my bed next to me. “Do you want me to stay?” he asks.
I find myself nodding and, oddly enough, it’s true. “Your mom suspects something,” he states. He killed my brother, what does he expect? “Do you think she’ll figure it out?” That he’s a murderer or that I kissed him? When I don’t answer he sighs and lies back on my bed. “I really do love you, Mikey. When I said I’d love you forever, I really did mean it.” Frank smiles slightly and I lay down next to him.
He turns to look at me and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “I know you said you can’t love me because of what I did to your brother but I know I made a mistake. I understand that now. I’m sorry, Mikey.” It’s the first time he’s apologized and I felt like he really did mean it, that he really is sorry. And the feeling of knowing he regrets what he did is amazing. I finally feel like maybe I can get over what he did.
I hug him tightly, trying to convey that he’s forgiven without saying a word because I don’t know if it’s okay to talk yet. “Mikey, I need to hear you say it. Tell me you forgive me, please.”
Frank’s eyes are begging, pleading. I’m afraid he’ll flip if I say a word but he asked me to talk so doesn’t that mean I can? I don’t know so I’m very hesitant to say his name, testing my voice. I haven’t spoken in three years so my voice is kinda weak and sore as I say, “Frankie.” His eyes are bright and he’s smiling so happily. I guess it’s because I finally used his nickname instead of just ‘Frank’ or maybe because I’m finally talking—I don’t know which. “It’s okay. I’m not mad anymore.”
And he hugs me, practically suffocates me, but I don’t mind. I guess I’m okay now. I mean, he’s not that bad, even for a terrorist. The only problem I see now is explaining to my mother that Frank’s okay, that I don’t want him to be locked away. I know he committed a crime but he was ‘insane’ and now he’s fine, in my opinion. Doesn’t that mean he can be free?
Now we’re just curled up on my bed, his arms around me and he’s so happy, I can just feel it radiating off of him. I didn’t give him what he wanted but he’s still happy. He wanted me to love him like I love Gee. I don’t and he knows I don’t but he still seems to be happy anyways. I think that maybe he’s okay with this, for now. It’s better than nothing, right?
Frank asks if he can kiss me again and I don’t hesitate, just say quietly, “Yes.” His lips are on mine again and they’re soft like they were every other time he’s kissed me. I want to apologize for leaving him but I don’t know how to put it into words and I’m afraid he won’t forgive me. He looked so heartbroken.
His hand cups my cheek and he’s deepening the kiss but then I hear a gasp from the doorway and there’s my mother. I’m sure my face is bright red from embarrassment at being caught. “I’m calling the police,” my mother says firmly. “I thought I recognized you from the news.” And then she’s left the room and Frank is clutching my hand tightly.
He looks me in the eyes and he’s so terrified. “Don’t let them take me back there, Mikey. Please, I’ll do anything.”
I close my eyes and twine my fingers with his voluntarily. “I’ll try.”
*
My mother is in the middle of dialing 911 when I say, “There’s no reason to send my friend to jail, mom. We’re just messing around.”
She slams the phone down and snaps, “How is kissing another boy ‘messing around’? This is serious, Mikey!” She hasn’t even registered that I’ve started talking again.
I hate fighting with her but I can’t help it. And it comes out before I can stop it: “Gerard did it too!” My mother gasps. She puts her hand over her mouth and her eyes are wide in shock. I immediately look away, ashamed for betraying my brother. Gerard made me promise not to tell and I’ve probably just destroyed whatever image she had of Gerard. She already thought so little of him but what I just said probably only made things worse.
“I never thought you would lie to me, Mikey,” she says softly. It’s not a lie but I don’t have the guts to tell her that, to argue with her until she accepts it. “I want your friend to go home.”
I haven’t even realized that Frank is behind me so when I turn around to go tell him I nearly run into him. “Hey,” he says softly as he catches me when I stumble.
I smile slightly. “Hey.”
I’ve almost forgotten my mother’s even there until she pulls me back away from him suddenly. “Don’t touch him,” she says angrily to Frank. “You’re sick. Disgusting. What kind of sick fuck gets off on a kid younger than him?”
Frank frowns. “I’m only a year older than him and I’m hardly an adult myself. I’ve never gotten off on Mikey. I understand we’ve never been anything more than friends, if that. I don’t want to hurt him, just be friends.” Something in his eyes is sad and I know he wants more than that. He wants me to love him and I know he still loves me. Feelings like that don’t die so quickly.
“Mom, he’s changed. I know to you all he’s ever been is the face you blame your problems on but he’s not just that. He’s an actual person with feelings and thoughts and idea and he’s really not that bad when you actually spend some time with him,” I say defensively. I pull away from my mother and go to Frank. For once I actually feel comforted in his arms instead of frightened. I twine my fingers with his. “He just made a mistake.”
My mother is outraged. “He killed your brother!” she shouts. “That is more than just a mistake! He deserved to die for what he did!”
I shake my head. “You didn’t even love Gerard and yet you’ll condemn his killer to death? Frankie was only fifteen,” I say quietly. I can’t believe the first time I’ve spoken to my mother in three years is in an argument. I can’t believe she wants Frank dead.
“He murdered him! He deserves to die like all murderers do! Age doesn’t matter!”
Frank closes his eyes and leans his head on my shoulder. “I only did it because I love Mikey. I was stupid. I thought that if he didn’t have anyone else but me… he might love me too. I understand now that I was wrong and that I only made Mikey hate me but I’m sorry and he forgives me. That’s good enough for me. I don’t feel quite so guilty anymore, knowing that he doesn’t hate me anymore.”
“Get out. Both of you. I don’t want to see either of you right now.”
I want to protest but I don’t say a word. Neither does Frank and soon we’re gone, out the front door and down the street, heading somewhere, anywhere, I don’t even know anymore. I’m holding his hand tightly and trying to get my mother out of my mind but it’s sinking in now that I was just kicked out of my home. I want to cry but I’m seventeen and I shouldn’t cry. I’m nearly a man. But I’ve seen Frank cry. So why can’t I?
A tear slides down my cheek and I see Frank cringe. “I’m sorry, Mikey.” He stops walking and pulls me into his arms in the middle of the sidewalk. I end up sobbing into his chest because I just can’t help it. I feel sick and depressed and somehow happy, all at the same time. I’m depressed because now I have no home but in a way I’m happy because I at least have Frank to look after me.
I’m sick but not in the physical way. I’m sick because I somehow have started to fall in love with a terrorist, the fucking murderer of my own brother, and I don’t even seem to mind. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I am really fucking sick. Frank kisses my lips gently. “Are you going to be okay?”
I love how he doesn’t ask if I am okay. He’s talking about the future and I know that if I stay with him, I should be fine. I smile slightly and it’s a regretful smile. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” Eventually. I’m starting to realize that when I was with Frank the first time I wasn’t miserable, just scared, and I had someone who loved me just as much as Gee did. I had someone to take care of me and someone who cared about me, even if he just seemed creepy.
I close my eyes and let him hold me for a while, my tears gone. My parents never really cared about me—though they seemed to love me more than Gerard—so it shouldn’t matter that they’re showing it more. If they don’t want me around it’s fine; Frank will always want me around. “C’mon, Mikey, let’s go home.” And he’s right—his home is mine now too.
*
Another three years has passed of me living with Frank. I love him to pieces—I really do—I just haven’t been able to give him everything he wants. I know he’s still waiting and trying to be okay without me giving him what he wants but I’m afraid that if I don’t give it to him soon he’s going to go find someone else. I know he’s done it before. I know he’s gone out and found someone other than me, if only for one night.
It’s late at night and we’re watching one of those cheap TV movies that are made only because they’ll always be second-best and can never actually make it all the way to the top. They’re never worth watching but we’re doing it anyways because it’s just something we can do together other than what he wants, what I know he needs.
“Mikey,” he says suddenly and it cuts through the almost-silence of the night like a knife. I jump a bit, startled, but then I look at him. He’s still staring at the TV like I was, watching but not really watching. “Mikey, will you please? Just this once? We don’t have to do it more than once if you don’t want to.”
I want to say yes and it’s not that I don’t trust him—because sex does take a lot of trust, when you think about it—but I’m scared. I’ve always been scared. The first time I was living with him I was always afraid he’d take my virginity by force but he never did, thankfully. “Frankie, I’m scared,” I whisper.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks softly.
I curl into his shoulder. “I don’t know exactly. Everything I guess. I’m afraid it’ll hurt or that you might not love me anymore ‘cause I’m just not good in bed or something. It’s a lot of things, really.”
Frank puts his arms around me and pulls me into his lap. He presses a small kiss to my temple and says softly, “There’s nothing to worry about, Mikey. I’ll love you forever, no matter what. Even if you’re not so good in bed, I’ll still love you and have sex with you anyways.” He sighs. “I’m never going to hurt you intentionally, baby.”
“Never?” I inquire, uncertain. I think of how quickly he shot my brother and immediately push thoughts of Gerard from my mind. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought of him but I’ve been sure not to dwell on his memory too long. Frank is a different person and he wouldn’t shoot me ever.
Frank kisses my neck and whispers, “Never ever.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “Okay then.”
He smiles. “I want you to want this too. Don’t just do it for me or if you don’t feel ready,” he says. Frank’s always changing his mind about these things.
I turn around in his lap so I’m facing him, straddling his waist. Looking him in the eyes steadily, I say, “I trust you, Frankie. If you want to have sex with me then I’m not going to say no anymore. I’m gonna let you do this but if I tell you to stop you have to stop, okay?”
Frank puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer. “Anything for you, love.” I giggle because that’s the first time he’s called me that and I like the way it’s sounds—cute and simple. I kiss him on the lips gently and it’s a sweet chaste kiss, unlike the ones he gave me six years ago, the ones I didn’t want.
It starts innocent and then he licks my lips and I obediently open my mouth to let his tongue inside. And now it’s not so innocent anymore and his grip on my hips has tightened, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold onto me. His right hand leaves my hip and slides up under my shirt, touching my stomach lightly.
He feels so very warm and all of his touches are gentle and I can’t believe I’ve been so afraid of feeling like this. He reaches for my jeans and starts getting the rest of my clothes off until I’m naked and he’s still fully clothed. “Not fair,” I gasp against his lips.
“I know, Mikey, I know.” He starts getting his own clothes off and slaps my hands away whenever I try to help him. I know he’s teasing me but I don’t mind—we have all night and forever to do this. And then he’s warm bare skin against me and it feels good to have this new feeling of closeness, without layers of clothing between us.
We’ve never really gotten this close before. Sure, there’s been cuddling—lots and lots of cuddling—but it was never this intimate before. “I love you,” I whisper as he moves his lips to my neck.
“I know. I love you too.” He rolls us over to get me on my back but we end up falling off the couch. I cry out sharply as I hit the floor, him landing on top of me. “Sorry, Mikey,” he whispers and I know he means it. He didn’t want to hurt me; he never did.
The FBI and police crashed through the front door. Seconds ago Frank had been eating dinner with me and now he has me pressed up against his chest with a gun to my head. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me. I don’t struggle or try to escape, just cling to his shirt. I look in his eyes, begging him, pleading with him. “Please,” I whisper and he releases me, letting the men have me.
“Wait here a second.” I almost protest as he gets up and heads off to… somewhere, I don’t know. He looks back at me. “I’ll only be a minute, love.” I trust him so I let him go and sure enough, he comes back with a bottle of lotion. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says as he starts slicking up his fingers.
This is it, I think. No turning back after this. Although I suppose he’d stop if I told him to but it wouldn’t make him too happy. “Calm down, Mikey. You’re too tense.” His fingers feel weird at first but then they’re not so bad and he touches something and I can’t get enough of it. My back is arching up, seeking more attention and he just smirks.
“F-Frankie,” I whimper. God that feels good and it’s driving me insane. Every time I try to touch myself he pushes my hand away and it’s starting to almost be painful. “P-please.” He finally gives in and touches me, stroking me slowly. But it’s still enough. I come apart underneath him and he kisses me softly. He hasn’t gotten off. I don’t understand what he’s trying to do.
Frank kisses me gently and says softly, “Tonight was just for you, Mikey. I wanted to make you happy and see I’m still never gonna do anything you don’t want me to. I know you said you’re ready but I want you to know it’s not about me and what I want.”
I smile and hug him tightly. “Thank you, Frankie.” I remember thinking that it was impossible to love a terrorist but Frank’s not really a terrorist anymore, if that was ever the right word for him. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I originally posted this on "my LiveJournal":http://mcrvampy.livejournal.com/ in eight parts but it's all in one on here.
The italics are parts that happened in the past, like memories.
*
I hate airplanes. Hate them. So does Gee. But here he is, sitting beside me, holding my hand because he knows they terrify me so much. He knows I hate the thoughts of how many things could go wrong. But that doesn't stop me from getting on the plane. I have to be brave, at least for a little while.
About an hour into the flight, a man comes from the bathroom with a mask over his face. He has a gun and there are several others, all of them shouting for everyone to shut up and let them take over. Gerard squeezes my hand and whispers to me that everything will be alright and that there is no way he'll let me die.
One of the terrorists hits him roughly in the back and snaps, "Shut up!" Gerard merely nods and bites his lip, looking away from me. He doesn't want to upset the terrorists; he has to take care of me and he knows there is no way I can make it through without him.
The terrorists start barking orders and the one that hit Gerard grabs him up by the arm and spits, "I'm going to shoot you if you don't do whatever the fuck I say." Gerard just nods, knowing better than to protest or argue.
After a couple minutes, the unknown man hands him some black box-ish thing that has assorted buttons and wires. "Hold this and don't press any buttons or do anything to it. Just hold it," the man says. Gerard nods and looks down at it. "It's a bomb and I can make it go off and take us all down to our motherfucking graves with the push of a button so you better fucking behave."
He's obviously the leader. Gerard nods again and continues looking at the bomb he's clutching tightly in his hands. And I'm so fucking scared because we're all going to die. This is just as I'd feared. Why me? Why us? I just want to scream that I was right all along and whatever god might be out there is so fucking cruel.
My hands are shaking and I know Gerard has to be more scared than I am because he's holding everyone's lives in his hands--one wrong move and he could be responsible for the death of over a hundred people. The terrorist sat down beside me in Gerard’s seat and I'm possibly even more afraid.
Now Gerard is watching us and the terrorist whispers in my ear, "Behave, dear." I shudder and he asks loud enough for others to hear, "What's your name, pretty?"
"Mikey," I say quietly, shy and even more afraid then before. Why did he have to single us out? At least I know my brother isn't going to do anything stupid, no matter what this man does to me. He knows that he can't risk the lives of everyone else just for me because if that bomb goes off, we'll all die. It would make sense that he'd rather I got hurt than I died.
The terrorist strokes my cheek and it seems almost affectionate but at this point, I'm convinced that anyone brutal enough to be able to kill so many people and himself so mercilessly can never feel any such feelings. I hope he doesn't have any kids or a wife back home because really, who could ever love a terrorist? "I didn't hear you. You'll have to speak up."
I bite my lip, holding back tears. I'm only fourteen. I shouldn't be forced to sit through something like this. "Mikey," I say louder.
He smiles. "That's a good boy with such a pretty name." I can see Gerard gritting his teeth, tempting to strangle this man. "How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
He nods and strokes my hair this time. "You're so young and beautiful." He kisses my cheek and it would seem innocent if I actually wanted it. But I don’t and I don't want to be here--I just want to be somewhere, anywhere, else. "Is he your lover?" He motions to Gerard and I shake my head. "Your brother?" I nod and he smiles. "You're both so beautiful."
Then the pilot's voice comes over the speaker. "I'd just like you to all remain calm and do what the men say. Please don't make any hasty decisions. The plane will be landing in Chicago." The flight was meant to go all the way to California. The pilot sounds so calm but I know he's probably got a gun to his head as he says these things. I can't calm down.
I close my eyes as the terrorist whispers in my ear, "I'm Frank but you can call me Frankie. I'm only fifteen." A fifteen-year-old kid was threatening to kill us all? I mean, I understood that some teenagers went a psycho and killed people because they were bullied but seriously!? I hadn't heard of them blowing up planes because someone hurt them.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Because I can. Because I want to. Does it matter?"
I was shaking with fear and maybe a little anger. "You're going to kill people just because you can?" I ask, a tear sliding down my cheek.
"It’s more complicated than that, Mikey. I'd explain it to you but it'll take a while and we'll be landing soon.” I just nod and look out the window, wanting to imagine I'm anywhere but here. "Mikey," he whispers and touches my leg, my thigh. "Mikey, I want someone to love me." I turn back to him. "Mikey, I want you to love me, to like me, to need me like you need your brother."
"Gee's all I have," I say automatically and I wish I didn't almost immediately.
He looks over at my brother with a hurt expression. "But you have to love me."
I shake my head. "I can't. I don't know you."
His lip quivers and I wonder how he even knows me. "If I kill him, you'll have only me, won't you?" Something in his eyes is animal, desperate, needy.
I just shake my head. "I can never love you."
Frank turns to look at Gerard. Gerard glares at him. Frank is pointing his gun at Gee and his hand is shaking as tears start to fall. "Why you?" he asks quietly.
"He's my brother," Gerard says simply.
People have started talking again and Frank stands up suddenly and screams, "SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU! JUST SHUT UP!" He looks insane, like he's having a mental breakdown, and he pulls the trigger.
*
The guy who killed my brother--Frank Iero--was put away in a mental hospital, labeled to be insane. If he wasn't 'insane' he would've been put to death. And it hurt me to know that my brother was dead and that he was still alive in some mental hospital in New Jersey, unable to hurt people but still alive. It's not that I wanted him to die--I wasn't that cruel and couldn't even wish that upon him--but I wished he could've died instead of Gerard.
My parents weren't exactly the best and all I'd really had was Gee, all my life. And suddenly he was gone. I'd watched him fall to floor, clutching at his stomach as blood seeped from between his lips. And I haven't spoken since. I can't find the words to say, the words that will express my pain. And Frank told me to shut up, told us all to shut up. I don't want to end up like Gerard. He died for me and I don’t want to meet the same fate.
School is starting and in homeroom, Mr. Tuck calls me up to his desk. I know this can't be good because he absolutely hates me but I don't question it and just walk up, watching him carefully. That's how I watch everyone, even though it’s been three years. "The principal wants to see you. He says it’s important."
I nod and silently leave the room and head in the direction of the office. This is probably just another update on Frank’s condition--they always notify me when he seems to be making progress or he starts regressing again. I don't think it's anything too very special but I know one of these days Frank will feel guilty. Someday he'll realize just what he's done. Or so I hope.
Mr. Renalds is a married man. That doesn't mean he doesn't sleep with a select few students he likes. In exchange for the sex, the students get better grades. I'm pretty good at keeping my grades up, but there was a point where they slipped, just after Gee died. Mr. Renalds asked me time and time again during that time if I wanted to do that. He scares me almost as much as Frank.
"We were notified earlier this morning that Frank Iero escaped from the institution he was being kept at. You are to be taken into protective custody, even though there is no way to be certain if he is going to come after you or not." I feel like he just slugged me in the gut and all I can think is God, please, no.
A police officer is standing behind me and he puts his hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay. We'll keep you safe from this psycho." But I don't think they can. Frank was in such a high security place--no one had escaped from it before. He could probably get past a few officers. I still remain silent, not wanting to disobey Frank because I'm just that scared of him.
The officer takes me over to the jail and I feel more like I'm being held against my will rather than being protected. I don't have to sit in a cell or anything but I have to sit with a couple officers nearby, making sure I don't get killed while they're standing close by. I feel like they don't really care, like they're just trying to keep me alive because it's their job. I'm probably right.
It's not that I don't like police officers but my issue with them is how many times they've failed me already: there were officers on the plane and my brother still got shot; there were officers in the airport and Frank still took me back to his house and kept me there for three days; there were officers at Frank’s house and he still cut my stomach open; there were officers at the mental hospital and he still got away; and there are officers at the police station but Frank is still going to get me.
I want to sob and breakdown but I know that the officers aren't going to understand and that crying would make Frank upset; it was just as loud--if not louder--as talking. I just silently look down at my hands in my lap and wish that the past three years never happened. I'd still have Gerard with me, taking care of me, and I wouldn’t be sitting here, afraid of a man only a year older than me.
I can't believe it when Frank walks right into the police station casually, like he's not a wanted man. I avert my eyes from him, hoping he might not recognize me but he comes straight over to me and no one stops him. "Listen, I"m his uncle and I came here to take him home," he says, showing an officer his fake ID. I'm getting a sinking feeling in my stomach because I know they'll fall for it and I can't say a word.
"He should stay in protective custody," an officer says but Frank shakes his head.
"He'll be fine. I'll take care of him." He smiles at me and takes my hand. "C'mon, Mikey, we're going home." I glance back at the officers, giving them a 'how-can-you-be-so-blind?' look. Frank just keeps leading me along, his fingers twined with mine like I'm his lover--he wants me to be his lover.
I find myself shaking and I squeeze his hand tightly. He may be a psychotic terrorist who once kidnapped me but I feel like I'm going to breakdown and I just need something to hold onto. "They said I was never gonna be allowed to see you again," Frank says and he looks genuinely sad.
I feel almost guilty but then I think about the way my brother looked like when he was lying on the floor of the airplane, dying. I can't feel sorry for Frank--he's just hurt me too much for me to ever feel anything but anger towards him.
*
Frank has a new home, a new hideout to keep me in. It’s not as nice as his last one but I’m not going to complain. At least he’s not keeping me tied up or anything—I’m allowed to roam the house. He tells me he wants to let me leave the house even but he’s too afraid I won’t come back and he’s right—if he lets me leave, I’m going to run and never look back.
I’ve mostly been sleeping in the same bed as Frank, unable to fall asleep until long after he has, and sleeping most of the day. He always wakes up before me and today he’s shaking me gently. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he says. I groan and turn over, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. “Mikey, we’re going out today!”
I open my eyes just a crack to look at him and he’s smiling down at me. The last time I was being held captive by him, he was usually freaking out over something small or maybe something that actually was a big deal—he even felt guilty for killing Gee—but now he’s different. He’s almost always smiling and holding my hand or kissing me on the cheek and it would look cute but really, it just seems to show how fucked up he is.
He hands me a piece of paper to write on. ‘Where do you want to go?’ I ask, looking at him questioningly. He hasn’t left me alone since I got here and I know we’re going to start running low on food and he should probably try to get a job but he never goes out.
Frank shrugs. “Lots of places. We gotta get food and we have to visit the cemetery and we have to go buy flowers but that’s before we go to the cemetery and we have to go to the hospital and I have to get you registered for school under a different name ‘cause the cops are looking for us both and I still have to get registered for school too.” He’s rambling, like he doesn’t remember how to talk the way he did before.
‘Frank, what happened to you?’ I write, finding that I’m actually concerned. I was told he was getting better and that he was making a lot of progress. But he seems so different and even worse than before. I don’t even register that he said a word about a cemetery, just that he’s so different now and it’s been bugging me for the past six days I’ve been with him.
He just shrugs again. “I found you,” he says with a smile but I know it’s something else. Something changed him, fucked him up more than before. “C’mon, you gotta get up so we can go.” I nod and get out of bed, grabbing some of Frank’s clothes to put on. When I’m fully clothed, I turn to Frank and he smiles happily, taking my hand and leading me outside.
First we go to a school I’ve never heard of and he registers us both, saying that he’s my legal guardian and showing a whole bunch of fake ID’s to the woman in the office. Apparently, my name is now Mikey Connor, which sounds weird to me but I don’t object. He signs the papers and shit and his ID says he’s nineteen so he’s an adult and he can sign. But he’s still young enough to be allowed to go to high school.
Then we go to a greenhouse and he’s looking through flowers and flowers and flowers. He wants me to help him find something but I don’t want to pick out flowers for him. I want to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. Finally he picks out a few pretty flowers, some kind of white flower that looks pretty but simple.
And then it’s on to the cemetery. I didn’t think he was being serious about that but here we are, standing in the midst of all these graves. This is the cemetery that Gerard was buried in but Frank is looking for someone else’s grave. He gives me two of the flowers he’s holding and says quietly, “Go find your brother. Tell him one’s from me and that I’m sorry.”
I scowl but nod and go straight to where I know my brother is buried. I sit down in front of his tombstone and trace my fingers over it. I haven’t been here since his funeral because I couldn’t bear to return. It looks like no one has, not even my parents. I want to cry, seeing his name etched into the stone forever, the green mossy shit making it hard to read the words.
I start wiping it away, hating that it’s defacing my brother’s grave. I’ll stay here all day if I have to. My nails break and my fingers start to bleed but I don’t care if that’s what it takes to show someone cares that he’s dead. I’ve already dropped the flowers on the green grass. I feel Frank’s hand on my shoulder and he says softly, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
He helps me get the rest off and I read the words on it over and over again but they don’t seem right. “Beloved son and brother” just doesn’t seem to work. Yes, I loved him—still do—but my parents never really appreciated him for who he was. I write down, ‘Do you have a knife?’ He looks wary.
Frank hands it to me and watches silently as I carve new words underneath the old too-perfect ones: I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone. It feels right, like something he would say or think up. And sure, he feared a lot of things but he was a lot stronger than I will ever be. I haven’t killed myself despite how much I miss him and that’s something, I suppose. This could only ever really make sense to someone who really knew Gerard.
My captor wraps his arms around me. “I bet he’d be so proud of you,” he says. I just nod silently. I want to talk to him again, tell him how much I still love him.
*
Frank and I seem to be on good terms now. I’m still not talking but something about Frank is so different and just wrong. This isn’t the kid that shot my brother; this is someone different altogether and it’s not Frank. Those people in that mental hospital place did something to him that fucked him up more than he was before. Not that the constant happiness and what I suppose could be called loving gestures were bad things. It was just that he didn’t seem real and it wasn’t Frank.
“You okay?” Frank asks when we’re lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. I don’t even really feel quite so uncomfortable sharing a bed with him anymore—I just don’t feel like I can sleep until I know he’s not going to slit my throat in my sleep or something. This new Frank is unpredictable. The one that held me captive before had a specific way of acting that I understood but now the game has changed.
I sigh and turn to face him, nodding. “Why don’t you talk anymore? Your voice is so pretty,” he says and I look away. Should I tell him it’s because of what he did? Will it make him angry? Sad? Guilty? I don’t know and I don’t feel like risking his wrath if he doesn’t like to hear it.
I put my back to him, just wanting to go to sleep and maybe wake up in the morning and find out this whole thing has been a big fucked up dream. But he puts an arm around my waist and my back is pressed into his warm chest. “Mikey,” he whispers and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget about all this, trying to make it all suddenly be different.
“Mikey,” he says again. His voice is calm, not angry like I’d have expected from the old Frank. “Mikey, answer me.”
Frustrated, I snatch up the notepad on the nightstand and scribble down hurriedly, ‘You’. I shove back at him before getting up, grabbing one of the blankets that had been layered on top of us both, and heading into the living room to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to be around him at all for the time being. He seems to understand and for once he just leaves me alone.
In the morning, Frank doesn’t mention it again and I’m glad—I don’t want to talk about Gerard again or what Frank did. It was bad enough that Frank took me to see his grave. “I remember I told you to call me Frankie and you called me Frank just to spite me,” he says suddenly, even though he’s quiet—it’s just so random and abrupt. But I remember too.
“Did you know that I tried to look like it didn’t bother me even though it did?” he asks and I shake my head in reply. He smiles faintly. “I still want you to love me, Mikey.” He puts his hands around my waist and lays his head on my back, between my shoulder blades. “Please,” he whispers. I close my eyes and I wonder if he’ll leave me alone if I say yes or if it’ll just make things worse.
His fingers are playing with my hair and he buries his face in my back. “Please Mikey, I need you.” Before, he was the one that wanted me to need him. So needing me was something new, although I guess that’s the way it had sorta been before. I pull out of his arms and he doesn’t even try to stop me. I don’t know why he’s not.
I look back at him and he’s just watching me with watery eyes and I can’t believe he’s seriously about to cry. Again, I find myself almost feeling bad. This is a different Frank. This is a Frank that’s been in a mental hospital that was helping him get ‘better’. This is a Frank that actually seems to maybe feel sorry for what he’s done.
But I force myself to remember that Gerard’s blood is on his hands and I shake my head. I can’t love him. I just can’t. And I don’t think he’s going to stop me so I just head straight out the front door, forcing myself not to look back at him. Hearing his pitiful sobs is enough; I don’t want to see it too.
I’m free and he’s actually letting me leave. I should be happy about this. I should be afraid he’ll change his mind but something tells me he isn’t going to force me to stay after this. I should be calling my parents and telling them I’m okay, that they haven’t lost both of their sons to Frank Iero. But something in me feels broken and like I’m making a mistake, leaving Frank by himself to figure out his own problems.
They said he’s insane but he seems to be fine to me. But then again, he doesn’t even know me and he acts like I should love him anyways. I close my eyes and sigh, turning to look back at his house. I just shake my head as if to cleanse it of all Frank-related thoughts before turning back the way I’m headed and going in what I believe is the direction of my own home. My parents will find out I’m alive soon enough.
As I’m walking along streets I realize I was never really too far from home. Frank’s house is just on a street I rarely travel down. It’s raining and I think about how stupid it is that in every movie ever made it starts raining as soon as things start getting sad. It’s ridiculous and I can’t help but think that Frank’s probably still standing there in his house, looking out the door like he was when I left, probably hoping that if he stares long enough I’ll come back and tell him I love him.
But I can’t love him. He’s a terrorist—is that even the right term for what he is?—and he killed my brother. Frank took away everything that mattered to me and now I’m alone—he’s right, I only have Frank now—and I can’t forgive him for that. I sigh as I knock on my own front door, even though I know where we hide the key. I just can’t be with someone who hurt me so much.
I just can’t.
*
It’s two weeks of being at home with my parents smothering me before I’m allowed to go back to school. And even then I still feel somehow empty, despite being surrounded by so many people again. I still feel guilty for leaving Frank all by himself to cry. When I lost Gerard and Frank took me away from my family, I at least had been able to cry around him.
“Mikey, are you okay?” Frank asks. I shake my head, wanting to hit him for being so stupid. I just watched my brother get murdered before my very eyes! How could I be okay after that!? He wraps his arms around me as I start to cry. “It’s okay, Mikey. You’ll have me forever.”
I snap out of it, forcing the memories from my mind. The thing is, he promised me he’d be there for me forever. That was more than anyone else ever gave me, even Gerard. And he was labeled insane but he wasn’t really that bad, when you think about it. Except I’m trying not to think about it and yet he seems to haunt me now. He always has but I know he’s still out there somewhere, probably lonely.
And I still can’t help but wonder whose grave he was at the cemetery to see, since he went somewhere else while I visited Gee’s grave. I can’t help but wonder who he’s lost or if maybe he was just going to give me privacy. But when he came over to help me clean it off, his flower was gone so he had to have put it somewhere.
Again, I’ve gotten distracted and now Mr. Tuck is introducing a new student. I look up and there is Frank, standing at the front of the class. Is he really this stupid!? The police are out looking for him and he really thinks he can just show up at my school as a new student? I sigh as he sits down beside me but it’s not anywhere near as loud as speaking so it’s okay.
Frank smiles at me warmly even though everyone’s staring at him. When I don’t smile back he looks back down at his laps and I see the smile turn into a frown. He looks genuinely sad again and I’m worried about him. He’s been all alone for two weeks and he’s ‘insane’. When people have finally stopped staring or looking at us, I reach over and squeeze his hand briefly before turning away altogether. Maybe it’s better if he isn’t around me but I can’t help but at least try to comfort him a little bit.
“Mikey, you know that no matter what I’ll love you forever, right?” Frank asks. I just look away. Why does he always do these things to me? “Mikey, you have to love me too. You don’t have anyone else.” He looks me in the eyes, pleading with me. “Don’t you understand, Mikey? I did this for us.” I want to tell him there is no ‘us’ but I keep quiet, not sure if that’ll set him off or not.
The rest of the school day is almost normal but Frank’s trailing along behind me like a lost puppy. And maybe he is lost and just needs some help but I can’t deal with him right now, maybe not ever. I don’t feel like it’s worth the effort or maybe I just don’t care—at least, that’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself of since I left him all by himself.
When school’s over, he follows me home and I let him inside and lead him down to Gerard’s room, if you could call it a room. It’s just the basement but my family hasn’t really been down here since his death. My father wants to make it ‘useful’ but my mother actually gave a fuck about Gee so she won’t let him. So everything’s the way it was before.
I don’t know why I take him to Gee’s room but he looks around it for a while, not touching anything, before he says, “This was his room, wasn’t it?” But it’s not really a question, the way he says it. I nod anyways and sit down on Gerard’s bed. The sheets aren’t clean and they still smell like him. I feel like crying but I still stay silent.
Frank leans over me and his eyes are big and remind me so much of how he used to be. I can’t believe I miss the way he used to act like before he was in the mental hospital and I can’t believe I think they fucked him up worse somehow.
“Mikey, would you let me kiss you?” he asks. I just turn away, choosing not to answer. Even if I say no, he’ll insist on it. “Please Mikey, I want to take this at your speed.” I just bite my lip. Since when did he care about what I want? I want my brother back. I want to go home. I want to be somewhere else. He looks down at me and I close my eyes, just waiting. His lips are soft against mine and like on the plane, the kiss would be innocent if I actually wanted it.
“Mikey, would you let me kiss you?” he asks and I feel like I’m reliving the past and this time I just slowly nod. If I go along with this, maybe it’ll be easier for us both. Frank leans in and presses his lips gently to mine. I find myself kissing back, strangely enough, and his hand is cupping my cheek now and this is just nothing like I thought it would be.
I hear my mother calling, “Mikey, it’s nearly time for dinner!”
She doesn’t know Frank’s here and she doesn’t even know if I’m home safely or not and I force my lips away from Frank’s, even though I really don’t want to. He takes my hand and twines his fingers with mine. “Will you finally talk to me now?” he asks. I look away, not wanting to answer that, even though the answer is still the same. He sighs and says softly, “C’mon, you’re mom’s gonna start worrying.”
I nod and we both get up and head upstairs again. “Mikey, who’s your friend?” my mom asks and I just shrug. She sighs and returns to setting the table like she’d been doing before. I know she worries about me but I can’t talk. I just can’t anymore. “He can stay for dinner if he wants to.”
Frank smiles and nods. “Thank you, Mrs. Way.”
“Anytime, dear.” I’ m so glad she hasn’t recognized him.
*
“So Frank, how’d you meet Mikey?” my mother asks conversationally but I noticed the way she got nervous after she find out his name. She watches Frank expectantly as I just bite my lip nervously.
Frank smiles warmly at her and for a moment, he seems almost normal, like a friend I’ve brought home from school. But because I rarely talk, I also rarely make friends. The only people I really hung out with before were people that were Gerard’s friends. “I’m a new student and we sit together in homeroom.”
She smiles and nods, looking down at her food. This is all just an act; she hates company. I want to find a way to stop this interrogation but I know my mother won’t let that happen. “So where’d you move from?”
“Oh, I’ve lived in New Jersey all my life. Just transferred schools.”
“That’s nice. You can spend the night if you like. I can call your parents for you.”
Frank immediately shakes his head. “My parents are dead,” he says quietly and looks away. “I live with my grandma.” I know that’s a lie but maybe it was his parents’ graves he was visiting in the cemetery. Although he only brought one flower.
“I’m sorry. Would you like me to call her?”
Frank sighs. “I’ll just do it myself.” He gets up and leaves.
My mom looks at me and I know she’s worried. “Mikey, you’d tell me if he was the one, wouldn’t you?” She knows I could never forget Frank’s face. She knows it’s been burned into my memories. I just nod and I hate lying to her but when Frank comes back and sits down beside me with a smile, I feel like it might just be worth it. I don’t want Frank to be stuck in a mental institution again because I’m starting to like him, maybe.
“So, what did she say?” my mother asks.
“She told me I can.” He looks down at his food with a sigh and then lapses into silence, seeming to ignore the rest of the questions my mother throws at him. My mom eventually huffs and shuts up. Underneath the table, Frank takes my hand. I don’t pull away or protest. Maybe I’ve changed my mind about him since I left him. He just looked so broken and I can’t get him out of my mind.
He lets go of my hand when he excuses himself and puts his dishes in the sink. I finish my food a couple minutes after him and this time I lead him up to my room. It’s kinda the same as Gee’s but not quite so dark and actually has a carpet. He looks around for a minute like he did in Gerard’s room and then he sits on my bed next to me. “Do you want me to stay?” he asks.
I find myself nodding and, oddly enough, it’s true. “Your mom suspects something,” he states. He killed my brother, what does he expect? “Do you think she’ll figure it out?” That he’s a murderer or that I kissed him? When I don’t answer he sighs and lies back on my bed. “I really do love you, Mikey. When I said I’d love you forever, I really did mean it.” Frank smiles slightly and I lay down next to him.
He turns to look at me and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “I know you said you can’t love me because of what I did to your brother but I know I made a mistake. I understand that now. I’m sorry, Mikey.” It’s the first time he’s apologized and I felt like he really did mean it, that he really is sorry. And the feeling of knowing he regrets what he did is amazing. I finally feel like maybe I can get over what he did.
I hug him tightly, trying to convey that he’s forgiven without saying a word because I don’t know if it’s okay to talk yet. “Mikey, I need to hear you say it. Tell me you forgive me, please.”
Frank’s eyes are begging, pleading. I’m afraid he’ll flip if I say a word but he asked me to talk so doesn’t that mean I can? I don’t know so I’m very hesitant to say his name, testing my voice. I haven’t spoken in three years so my voice is kinda weak and sore as I say, “Frankie.” His eyes are bright and he’s smiling so happily. I guess it’s because I finally used his nickname instead of just ‘Frank’ or maybe because I’m finally talking—I don’t know which. “It’s okay. I’m not mad anymore.”
And he hugs me, practically suffocates me, but I don’t mind. I guess I’m okay now. I mean, he’s not that bad, even for a terrorist. The only problem I see now is explaining to my mother that Frank’s okay, that I don’t want him to be locked away. I know he committed a crime but he was ‘insane’ and now he’s fine, in my opinion. Doesn’t that mean he can be free?
Now we’re just curled up on my bed, his arms around me and he’s so happy, I can just feel it radiating off of him. I didn’t give him what he wanted but he’s still happy. He wanted me to love him like I love Gee. I don’t and he knows I don’t but he still seems to be happy anyways. I think that maybe he’s okay with this, for now. It’s better than nothing, right?
Frank asks if he can kiss me again and I don’t hesitate, just say quietly, “Yes.” His lips are on mine again and they’re soft like they were every other time he’s kissed me. I want to apologize for leaving him but I don’t know how to put it into words and I’m afraid he won’t forgive me. He looked so heartbroken.
His hand cups my cheek and he’s deepening the kiss but then I hear a gasp from the doorway and there’s my mother. I’m sure my face is bright red from embarrassment at being caught. “I’m calling the police,” my mother says firmly. “I thought I recognized you from the news.” And then she’s left the room and Frank is clutching my hand tightly.
He looks me in the eyes and he’s so terrified. “Don’t let them take me back there, Mikey. Please, I’ll do anything.”
I close my eyes and twine my fingers with his voluntarily. “I’ll try.”
*
My mother is in the middle of dialing 911 when I say, “There’s no reason to send my friend to jail, mom. We’re just messing around.”
She slams the phone down and snaps, “How is kissing another boy ‘messing around’? This is serious, Mikey!” She hasn’t even registered that I’ve started talking again.
I hate fighting with her but I can’t help it. And it comes out before I can stop it: “Gerard did it too!” My mother gasps. She puts her hand over her mouth and her eyes are wide in shock. I immediately look away, ashamed for betraying my brother. Gerard made me promise not to tell and I’ve probably just destroyed whatever image she had of Gerard. She already thought so little of him but what I just said probably only made things worse.
“I never thought you would lie to me, Mikey,” she says softly. It’s not a lie but I don’t have the guts to tell her that, to argue with her until she accepts it. “I want your friend to go home.”
I haven’t even realized that Frank is behind me so when I turn around to go tell him I nearly run into him. “Hey,” he says softly as he catches me when I stumble.
I smile slightly. “Hey.”
I’ve almost forgotten my mother’s even there until she pulls me back away from him suddenly. “Don’t touch him,” she says angrily to Frank. “You’re sick. Disgusting. What kind of sick fuck gets off on a kid younger than him?”
Frank frowns. “I’m only a year older than him and I’m hardly an adult myself. I’ve never gotten off on Mikey. I understand we’ve never been anything more than friends, if that. I don’t want to hurt him, just be friends.” Something in his eyes is sad and I know he wants more than that. He wants me to love him and I know he still loves me. Feelings like that don’t die so quickly.
“Mom, he’s changed. I know to you all he’s ever been is the face you blame your problems on but he’s not just that. He’s an actual person with feelings and thoughts and idea and he’s really not that bad when you actually spend some time with him,” I say defensively. I pull away from my mother and go to Frank. For once I actually feel comforted in his arms instead of frightened. I twine my fingers with his. “He just made a mistake.”
My mother is outraged. “He killed your brother!” she shouts. “That is more than just a mistake! He deserved to die for what he did!”
I shake my head. “You didn’t even love Gerard and yet you’ll condemn his killer to death? Frankie was only fifteen,” I say quietly. I can’t believe the first time I’ve spoken to my mother in three years is in an argument. I can’t believe she wants Frank dead.
“He murdered him! He deserves to die like all murderers do! Age doesn’t matter!”
Frank closes his eyes and leans his head on my shoulder. “I only did it because I love Mikey. I was stupid. I thought that if he didn’t have anyone else but me… he might love me too. I understand now that I was wrong and that I only made Mikey hate me but I’m sorry and he forgives me. That’s good enough for me. I don’t feel quite so guilty anymore, knowing that he doesn’t hate me anymore.”
“Get out. Both of you. I don’t want to see either of you right now.”
I want to protest but I don’t say a word. Neither does Frank and soon we’re gone, out the front door and down the street, heading somewhere, anywhere, I don’t even know anymore. I’m holding his hand tightly and trying to get my mother out of my mind but it’s sinking in now that I was just kicked out of my home. I want to cry but I’m seventeen and I shouldn’t cry. I’m nearly a man. But I’ve seen Frank cry. So why can’t I?
A tear slides down my cheek and I see Frank cringe. “I’m sorry, Mikey.” He stops walking and pulls me into his arms in the middle of the sidewalk. I end up sobbing into his chest because I just can’t help it. I feel sick and depressed and somehow happy, all at the same time. I’m depressed because now I have no home but in a way I’m happy because I at least have Frank to look after me.
I’m sick but not in the physical way. I’m sick because I somehow have started to fall in love with a terrorist, the fucking murderer of my own brother, and I don’t even seem to mind. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I am really fucking sick. Frank kisses my lips gently. “Are you going to be okay?”
I love how he doesn’t ask if I am okay. He’s talking about the future and I know that if I stay with him, I should be fine. I smile slightly and it’s a regretful smile. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” Eventually. I’m starting to realize that when I was with Frank the first time I wasn’t miserable, just scared, and I had someone who loved me just as much as Gee did. I had someone to take care of me and someone who cared about me, even if he just seemed creepy.
I close my eyes and let him hold me for a while, my tears gone. My parents never really cared about me—though they seemed to love me more than Gerard—so it shouldn’t matter that they’re showing it more. If they don’t want me around it’s fine; Frank will always want me around. “C’mon, Mikey, let’s go home.” And he’s right—his home is mine now too.
*
Another three years has passed of me living with Frank. I love him to pieces—I really do—I just haven’t been able to give him everything he wants. I know he’s still waiting and trying to be okay without me giving him what he wants but I’m afraid that if I don’t give it to him soon he’s going to go find someone else. I know he’s done it before. I know he’s gone out and found someone other than me, if only for one night.
It’s late at night and we’re watching one of those cheap TV movies that are made only because they’ll always be second-best and can never actually make it all the way to the top. They’re never worth watching but we’re doing it anyways because it’s just something we can do together other than what he wants, what I know he needs.
“Mikey,” he says suddenly and it cuts through the almost-silence of the night like a knife. I jump a bit, startled, but then I look at him. He’s still staring at the TV like I was, watching but not really watching. “Mikey, will you please? Just this once? We don’t have to do it more than once if you don’t want to.”
I want to say yes and it’s not that I don’t trust him—because sex does take a lot of trust, when you think about it—but I’m scared. I’ve always been scared. The first time I was living with him I was always afraid he’d take my virginity by force but he never did, thankfully. “Frankie, I’m scared,” I whisper.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks softly.
I curl into his shoulder. “I don’t know exactly. Everything I guess. I’m afraid it’ll hurt or that you might not love me anymore ‘cause I’m just not good in bed or something. It’s a lot of things, really.”
Frank puts his arms around me and pulls me into his lap. He presses a small kiss to my temple and says softly, “There’s nothing to worry about, Mikey. I’ll love you forever, no matter what. Even if you’re not so good in bed, I’ll still love you and have sex with you anyways.” He sighs. “I’m never going to hurt you intentionally, baby.”
“Never?” I inquire, uncertain. I think of how quickly he shot my brother and immediately push thoughts of Gerard from my mind. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought of him but I’ve been sure not to dwell on his memory too long. Frank is a different person and he wouldn’t shoot me ever.
Frank kisses my neck and whispers, “Never ever.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “Okay then.”
He smiles. “I want you to want this too. Don’t just do it for me or if you don’t feel ready,” he says. Frank’s always changing his mind about these things.
I turn around in his lap so I’m facing him, straddling his waist. Looking him in the eyes steadily, I say, “I trust you, Frankie. If you want to have sex with me then I’m not going to say no anymore. I’m gonna let you do this but if I tell you to stop you have to stop, okay?”
Frank puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer. “Anything for you, love.” I giggle because that’s the first time he’s called me that and I like the way it’s sounds—cute and simple. I kiss him on the lips gently and it’s a sweet chaste kiss, unlike the ones he gave me six years ago, the ones I didn’t want.
It starts innocent and then he licks my lips and I obediently open my mouth to let his tongue inside. And now it’s not so innocent anymore and his grip on my hips has tightened, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold onto me. His right hand leaves my hip and slides up under my shirt, touching my stomach lightly.
He feels so very warm and all of his touches are gentle and I can’t believe I’ve been so afraid of feeling like this. He reaches for my jeans and starts getting the rest of my clothes off until I’m naked and he’s still fully clothed. “Not fair,” I gasp against his lips.
“I know, Mikey, I know.” He starts getting his own clothes off and slaps my hands away whenever I try to help him. I know he’s teasing me but I don’t mind—we have all night and forever to do this. And then he’s warm bare skin against me and it feels good to have this new feeling of closeness, without layers of clothing between us.
We’ve never really gotten this close before. Sure, there’s been cuddling—lots and lots of cuddling—but it was never this intimate before. “I love you,” I whisper as he moves his lips to my neck.
“I know. I love you too.” He rolls us over to get me on my back but we end up falling off the couch. I cry out sharply as I hit the floor, him landing on top of me. “Sorry, Mikey,” he whispers and I know he means it. He didn’t want to hurt me; he never did.
The FBI and police crashed through the front door. Seconds ago Frank had been eating dinner with me and now he has me pressed up against his chest with a gun to my head. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me. I don’t struggle or try to escape, just cling to his shirt. I look in his eyes, begging him, pleading with him. “Please,” I whisper and he releases me, letting the men have me.
“Wait here a second.” I almost protest as he gets up and heads off to… somewhere, I don’t know. He looks back at me. “I’ll only be a minute, love.” I trust him so I let him go and sure enough, he comes back with a bottle of lotion. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says as he starts slicking up his fingers.
This is it, I think. No turning back after this. Although I suppose he’d stop if I told him to but it wouldn’t make him too happy. “Calm down, Mikey. You’re too tense.” His fingers feel weird at first but then they’re not so bad and he touches something and I can’t get enough of it. My back is arching up, seeking more attention and he just smirks.
“F-Frankie,” I whimper. God that feels good and it’s driving me insane. Every time I try to touch myself he pushes my hand away and it’s starting to almost be painful. “P-please.” He finally gives in and touches me, stroking me slowly. But it’s still enough. I come apart underneath him and he kisses me softly. He hasn’t gotten off. I don’t understand what he’s trying to do.
Frank kisses me gently and says softly, “Tonight was just for you, Mikey. I wanted to make you happy and see I’m still never gonna do anything you don’t want me to. I know you said you’re ready but I want you to know it’s not about me and what I want.”
I smile and hug him tightly. “Thank you, Frankie.” I remember thinking that it was impossible to love a terrorist but Frank’s not really a terrorist anymore, if that was ever the right word for him. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Sign up to rate and review this story