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"Closed?"

"But it's always open after school - I come here nearly every day!" 

Gerard and Ray were puzzled as to why Nicholson's was closed; the lights were off and there was no sign of life anywhere in the store. 

"Maybe he's sick?" Gerard suggested. 

"No, I don't think so…even if he was, he'd still have the shop open."

"What the hell…" Gerard muttered. 

"I thought you guys would be here."

Gerard and Ray both whirled around at the sound of the third voice. 

"Frank!" exclaimed Ray. "Do you know what happened to David?"

Suddenly Frank paled and his lower lip began to wobble. 

"Frank?" Gerard asked hesitantly. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Frank shook his head. "He - David…last night," he gulped. "There was a d-drunk driver…" Frank fell silent as he tried to choke back his tears. 

Ray's eyes grew wide in shock. "You don't mean…"

"He's gone?" Gerard finished. 

Frank nodded and put his head in his hands. 

"B-but, what's gonna happen to his shop?" Ray stuttered. 

"It's going to be sold." Frank said in a muffled voice.

"They can't do that!"

"Ray, what other choice is there?"

"Well, they could, um…oh, I don't know! I'm going home." said a frustrated Ray. He turned and stalked off down the street, angrily kicking an empty beer can along the way. 

Frank raised his head and looked at Gerard with bloodshot eyes. 

"Are you leaving too?"

"I dunno…" Gerard muttered dejectedly. "I'm just going to take a walk or something...Mikey's sick so I don't have anything to do at home."

"Oh." Frank hesitated. "Well, if you're not busy, you can come over to my house, if you want…?"

Gerard considered the idea. "I-er, I suppose I could."

Frank gave him a watery smile of relief and gratitude. "Good, cause I don't exactly have much to do either. I haven't got any siblings and both my parents are at work."

Gerard wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to respond. "Oh."

~

When Gerard walked through the front door of Frank's house he got a strange sense of familiarity. Perhaps it was because they lived in the same neighborhood and therefore the houses were all somewhat similar. They walked up the stairs and down a short hallway to Frank's bedroom. Gerard looked around; Frank's bedroom wasn't much different from his - it was a bit messy, the walls were covered in band posters, and it had an overall comforting atmosphere. Leaning against the wall by his bed there was a beautiful white Les Paul with a black pickguard. 

Frank noticed Gerard gazing at his guitar. "That's Pansy."

"What?"

"My guitar. Her name is Pansy."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Why did you name it Pansy?"

"It was Ray's old nickname for me. I dunno how he came up with it though."

Looking at Pansy, a thought crossed Gerard's mind that reminded him of David. "David said he would teach me to play the guitar…" he said sadly. "I never got the chance to learn."

"I can teach you if you want." Frank offered. 

"No, don't bother - I feel like I'm not meant to play the guitar. I should just stick with singing."

"You sing?"

Gerard blushed. "A little. I'm not that good."

"You're probably loads better than me. I want you to sing."

"Erm, maybe…but not until I hear you play the guitar."

"Fine. But you have to promise you'll sing after."

"Alright, alright. I promise."

Frank went over to pick up Pansy and sat on his bed. 

"Um, well, this is a pretty stupid song I wrote…well, I don't know why I wrote it."

Fat and alone
You're out on your own
No one is calling on your telephone

Things aren't getting any better
And you've stretched out all your sweaters
Things aren't getting any better
No never, no never.

Fat and alone
You're out on your own
King of blubber, sitting on your throne.

Things aren't getting any better
And you've stretched out all your sweaters
Things aren't getting any brighter
And you're not getting any lighter
Things aren't getting any better
No never, no never

No never, no never
No never, no never
No never, no never
No never, no never.

Frank set his guitar back against the wall and grimaced. "That was pretty bad, wasn't it?"

Gerard vigorously shook his head in disagreement. "No, I liked it. I thought it was sort of funny but it still had this seriousness to it."

"Seriously? You liked it?"

"Yeah."

"Wow…thanks. I think you're the only person other than Ray and David who likes my playing. But then again, you guys are the only ones who'll even talk to me. Now I want to hear you sing."

Gerard shook his head. "No, no, I'd rather not. I'm terrible."

"Cmon! You can't be that bad! Please? You promised." Frank stuck out his lower lip. 

Gerard couldn't help giggling a little at the pout. "Fine." He sighed in exasperation and began to sing in a quiet voice. 

I never said I'd lie in wait forever
If I died we'd be together
I can't always just forget her
But she could try.

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see,
You are never coming home,
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?

And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever ever…

Ever get the feeling that you're never
All alone and I remember now
At the top of my lungs, in my arms
She dies, she dies

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see,
You are never coming home,
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?

And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home,
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?

And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me.

Gerard fell silent. 

"Did you write that yourself?" Frank asked softly.  

Gerard nodded, eyes glued to his shoes. 

"That was amazing, Gerard!" Frank burst out. "I'd never be able to write something like that. Hell, I'd never be able to sing like you."

Gerard's cheeks turned the color of a beetroot. "I-I'm  not that good…"

"Don't say that! How can you - I, I don't even what to say." Frank's eyes sparkled with admiration for the scarlet-faced boy shuffling his feet in front of him. 

"I…I don't like singing in front of other people - I can barely even talk to people other than my mom and Mikey." Gerard muttered. "It might not seem like such a big deal but it took me a lot to do what I just did."

Frank impulsively stood up and hugged Gerard. "Hey, Gerard?" he said into the taller boy's shoulder. "That really means a lot to me."

Gerard awkwardly hugged him back and thought to himself that Frank had strong arms for someone so small. 

Frank realeased Gerard from his grip and sat back down on the edge of his bed. "How long have you been singing?"

Gerard shrugged. "Well, I used to be in a lot of school plays when I was little. So I guess i started when I was in grade school."

"Hey…" Frank's eyes lit up as he got an idea. "What do you think about writing a song together? You can write the lyrics and then I can work on accompanying you with Pansy."

"Well, it might take a while for me to write something I find decent enough to use but I can try."

Frank smiled with excitement. "I've tried writing songs before with Ray but they never turn out good. We've both agreed that we're not very good at writing lyrics."

"Really? I don't-" Gerard's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Gee, it's me."

"Mikey? What is it?"

"Mom said you have an appointment with Dr. Langford in ten minutes."

"Shit. I totally forgot about that. Is that all you needed to tell me?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay. You feeling any better?"

"Nope. Still feel like shit."

"Aw, poor Mikey!" Gerard teased. "Bye then. I gotta go."

"Bye."

Gerard sighed and turned to Frank. "I have to go see my therapist again."

"You have to leave?" Frank asked sadly. 

"Yeah. Sorry. Here, I'll give you my number so we can talk later." Gerard scribbled some numbers down on a scrap of paper and handed it to Frank. "I'll talk to you later then."

Frank followed Gerard down the stairs and to the front door. 

Gerard opened the door and turned around. "Bye-" he paused. "Can I call you Frankie?"

Frank blushed a brilliant red and nodded. 

Gerard smiled. "Bye Frankie." 

Even though Frank smiled in return, Gerard could tell by the look in his eyes that something was troubling him. What he couldn't tell though was why Frank appeared to be sad. He also didn't know that as soon as he closed the door, Frank went back upstairs to his room and collapsed on his bed in a silent fit of tears. 



A/N
Guess what guys? I start school next week. Isn't that great? No. I still haven't finished my summer work and part of it's due in two days. Shitshitshitshitshit. But I'll probably be sitting in class either listening to my iPod or working on my new story. It's called Royal Assassin and simply put, it's going to be quite different from what you're used to. I'm going to post it as soon as I'm done with this story. This one's nearly over, thank God - only a couple chapters left. I really don't like this story - it's probably the most useless thing I've ever written. But whatever.

One more thing - I have a question for you guys. Do you think simply saying you dislike something makes you a troll? Cause this girl asked me to vote for Justin Bieber and I was like, sorry I don't like him. She flipped out and started bitching about some shit and said "Trolls…just f*k off!" Apparently Justin Bieber fans are too scared to type the word FUCK. I never said anything even remotely close to "Justin Bieber is a fag! He should fuck his mom and then go die in a hole!" All I said was "I do not like him."

Some people are just batshit crazy
XØ