Frank spent the half hour at the store flipping through magazines in the books aisle and waiting for his mom to make the purchase. She asked him a few questions about what he'd like for dinner, so he mumbled a one syllable answer and kept his eyes on the page in front of him that he wasn't even reading.
"Frank? Are you alright?" he heard her ask after a moment.
He realized the reason his eyes were blurred and unfocused was because tears were openly spilling from his eyes onto the floor. He wiped them away and shoved the now-wet magazine into the cart, pulling his sweatshirt sleeves up to his fingertips and chewing on them.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I-I'll go wait in the c-car... okay?" he choked out, starting toward the front doors of the grocery store.
Once he was standing next to their silver SUV he let it out. A wave of absolute anguish swept over him, making it hard for him to stand. He felt his legs give out and fell to the concrete, gripping the car's bumper.
"...You lied Gerard... for all I know you're dead under feet of earth and have been for decades! You fucking lied Gerard!" Frank growled against the cool metal, digging his nails into the plastic.
But he wasn't angry, he knew he couldn't be. His grip tightened on the bumper as he tried to control his sobs.
"Frankie, Frankie-honey what's wrong?" his mom asked, rushing over as she approached him in the parking lot.
Frank hit his head on the side of the car repeatedly until he rid himself of the tears well enough to speak.
"You have no idea h-how long I've held th-that in..." he said, getting shakily to his feet and going toward the car door.
"Frank? What happened?" she asked.
"Nothing mom; I'm fine...." Frank replied, his fingers lingering over the cool metal for a moment.
His mom shook her head as Frank hopped in the SUV, still trembling a bit. His eyes were downcast as he entered the house.
"Mom, I'm gonna go take a nap if you don't mind..." he said once they were inside.
"Okay, I'll let you know when dinner's ready." She said.
Frank collapsed on his bed, muffling his sobs with his pillow.
"Frank?" Jason's voce said from the doorway.
"W-what?" Frank stuttered, looking up from his pillow, his eyes red and swollen.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked, sitting on the edge of Frank's bed.
Frank nodded and chewed his thumb nervously.
"What's your best impression of a British accent?" Jason questioned.
Frank laughed dryly and covered his eyes.
"How about this, is this good enough for you?" he said; a natural, only slightly faded sounding accent in his voice.
"Whoa, that sounded real." Jason said.
"Hm! It is..." Frank said, dropping the accent.
"What?" Jason asked.
"Ah... nothing..." Frank answered.
"You said it was real! Are you like adopted from England or something?" Jason prodded.
"I suppose you could say that..." Frank said, smushing the pillow over his head like he always did, "He never let me forget, so I've had a pretty long time to keep it going."
"Who?" Jason asked, pushing the pillow aside, "Gerard?"
"Yeah. He said it sounded cool, so I should keep it." Frank answered, "He made me talk like that as best I could for years without losing it, but I didn't all the time, like in the videos, I had to practice talking American for... uh, some reason."
"What reason?" Jason questioned.
"I dunnnnnnnno, you may never find out..." Frank replied, burying his head in his blanket.
Jason didn't question further; Frank looked tortured enough.
"Mom, is Frank adopted?" Jason asked once he was downstairs in the kitchen.
"No, why do you ask?" she answered.
"Uh, I... never mind." He said.
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