FicWad

Hiya! :3 This is my second Frerard Fanfiction I've written :3 I lost all hope on my first :L Hope you like it :3

Frank's POV

I'm trapped. Cocooned in my little world of fear and hate. That's what it thrives on; Fear. And blood. My blood. Everythings gone so wrong so fast. The old Frank's dead. The new Frank had risen up from his ashes. But the new Frank is nothing like the old one. He is quiet, alone, depressed. Because he has lost everything. I have lost everything. Jamia, Cherry and Lily, my dogs... Everything. Now I'm stuck with him. The thought of him made bile rise in my throat. It made me want to shake, cry and scream for help. Not like anyone would here me. I can't even fucking defend myself anymore.

"Frank?"

I felt someone shake me back into reality. The voice was warm and loving but tainted with worry. I felt them gripping on my shoulders, making me wince as they were pressing of the tender bruises that my Misfits top enclosed.

"Frankie?!"

They sounded desperate now. I blinked a few times, my eyes adjusting to the light. They foucused on my fellow red-headed friend, Gerard. He slowly released me, giving me a small smile though the worry was still evident on his face no matter how he tried to mask it.

"Frank... Go get your guitar. We are now leaving. We've finished the tour, remember? It's time to go home. I'm sure your boyfriend is missing you?"

I shuddered ever so slightly. Boyfriend. Missing me? No. Not in the nice way. Gerard pulled me to my feet and I trudged off to go get my guitar, dreading everything that was to come.

Gerards POV


It took a couple of attempts to get Franks attention. It always did nowadays. He was so distant, like constantly concealed in his own little bubble. He was so different. Probably because he was suffering the realisation that Jamia has actually left him for good. I'd be upset if LynZ left me, banning me from seeing Bandit in the process. I sat down as Frank trudged off to get his guitar, massaging my temples with my fingers.

"Coffee? You look like you fuckin' need it."

My younger brother snorted behind me, holding up a white mug filled with the strong smelling liquid. I took it from him carefully, taking a sip, ignoring the scolding pain it gave my tongue and relishing the favouite flavour instead.

"Thanks Mikey."

I grumbled, placing the mug on the table as it was burning my fingers. I looked at my lanky little brother a moment as he sipped his coffee.

"Mikes? Have you noticed anything...Different about stuff recently?"

I asked curiously. By 'stuff' I meant Frank. Mikey knew me too well and picked up on it in an instant.

"You mean Frankie?"

I simply nodded. Mikeys brows furrowed in deep thought for what felt like forever.

"Yes."

He finally answered. He smiled at me a little, which I presumed was my brother trying to be reassuring.

"I'm sure he's fine Gerard. Who wouldn't be depressed after their wife divorced them and took everything away from them, including their kids?"

He pointed out. I nodded. That was all very true. I would be. But it was almost six months that Frank had been depressed over Jamia. Six months ago, they spilt up and she left. He was depressed for two months until he met his new boyfriend, Sam. The depression was never this bad. For a month Frank was happy, then suddenly he's on a downer again, this time worse then before. A lot worse. He rarely talks. None of us have seen him eat. He tends to lock himself in bathrooms for hours on end. Something wasn't at all right with him.