FicWad

…stand up fucking tall, don’t let them see your back, and take my fucking hand and never be afraid again…


Frank was clutching the piece of paper that I had scribbled John’s address on earlier that morning.

John Thompson
2404 Shadow Ridge Rd

We drove slowly around the trailer park looking for the number 2404, spotting it after a few minutes. The trailer itself was pretty dumpy-looking; it must have been white years ago but the paint was peeling off and it was going black and moldy in certain places. The front stairs were being threatened by all sorts of overgrown weeds, giving the place a kind of deserted look.

“What a dump…” I whispered.

“He still lives here?”

I nodded and told him that this was his listed address. I stopped the car and turned the engine off, leaving us in complete silence.

Frankie sat staring at the front door, as if hypnotized.

I put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at me. I squeezed his shoulder in encouragement, and, taking a deep breath, he opened his car door.

We both walked to the door after I stopped to lock the car.

“Ring the doorbell before I change my mind,” Frank muttered.

I pressed the little round doorbell button and waited. We could hear rustling noises coming from inside the house; he was there.

A minute later, a man opened the door; he was of average height. He had a cigarette in his mouth and he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His hair was going grey and it was all ruffled and dirty; probably hadn’t taken a shower in the last few days, either. He squinted at us and asked in a gruff voice, “Wha’d ya want?”

Frank stared back at him, not nervous at all anymore. He offered him a grim smile, his eyes showing absolute hatred, and said, “Hello Dad. Or would you prefer to be called Fag? It was you favorite name for me, after all.”

John’s eyes widened and he tried to slam the door shut, but I put my foot in the way, shoving it back open. We entered the house and closed the door behind us.

“What do yer w-want? You c-can’t come in ‘ere!” he stuttered, backing up and falling onto his old sofa. Seeing him nervous made Frank feel better. And stronger.

“Don’t worry, little fuck, we won’t hurt you. We just want to talk. Remember old times.” Frank sat on a chair next to the sofa, resting his feet on a coffee table that was on its last legs, studying his stepfather.

“I dunno know what you want, but if it’s money, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” John was getting really nervous.

“Just shut the hell up and listen,” I told him, getting annoyed.

Frank nodded his thanks to me. “Money? No thanks, we didn’t come for that. I don’t need anything from you, I never did. That’s what we’re here for.”

John looked at us both, confused. “Then what-“

“I came to tell you that even though you tried to break me when I was little and couldn’t defend myself, you failed. You ended up breaking yourself from what I can see.” Frank glanced around the trailer, looking very relaxed. “Since I escaped the hell-hole when I was 15, things have gotten a lot better. I’m in a band now; we drive around the country doing concerts and thousands of people come to see us play. My Chemical Romance, you must have heard of us,” he stated as if he were catching up with a long-lost friend.

“Yeah, well, that’s great and all, but-“

“So don’t ask if I need your money, because I don’t. I just wanted to see how much of a screw-up you still were. It motivates me. Really.” Frank was glaring at him now, making the guy shift uneasily.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to try anything now? What happened to your bar friends that you used to bring home? Don’t have anyone to force to watch the two of you fuck, or what? I guess that takes away all of the excitement, huh?” He was leaning towards the guy, glaring at him, as if getting ready to jump him any second.

“Easy, Frank…” I warned him. We didn’t come to beat the guy up. That would probably make him feel better right then but in the long run it wouldn’t help.

John looked at me nervously, as if I would help him.

Backing off a bit, Frank said, “You tried to fuck me up, screw up my whole life, but you failed and ended up screwing up your own. I just want to say that, even though I’ll continue with my life and forget you the instant I leave this so called house of yours, I hope you never forget me. I hope you die alone in this dump thinking about me and everything you did to me. I hope it makes you want to kill yourself, which is what you should have done before coming near me or my mother.”

Scooting to the edge of the chair and leaning towards the guy again, but this time smiling, he said in a low voice, “So, Dad, don’t forget me. But remember me how I am now; the guy in the successful band that’s making it in life even though everything was against him. I’d like to say that I’ll remember you, but I won’t, because I really just don’t give a shit about you.”

He got up from his chair and headed towards the door, opening it and turning around to say his last words to his stepfather. “Oh, and don’t come looking for me for money or anything else, because I’d have to kick your ass,” he said sweetly, as if he were complimenting the guy. With a wave of his hand he finished, “So long! Think of me while you’re getting drunk tonight and cutting your veins!”

With that he walked happily down the doorsteps and towards the car. I followed him, smiling and giving a quick salute to John, who was huddled on the sofa, looking scared and nervous, closing the door behind me.

We got in the car as if nothing had happened and drove away. After a few minutes, I stopped the car in a gasoline station.

I looked over at Frank and he was looking off into the distance, smiling. I was relieved to see that.

He looked at me and said, “Thanks for making me do that. I feel… new again.”

“I’m glad.” We were both so happy that we burst out laughing for no apparent reason and hugged each other.

“Thanks for going with me,” he whispered in my ear.

I laughed and let go of him. “Stop with the thanks already! It was nothing. I couldn’t have let you go alone.”

He smiled. We stared into each others eyes; I wanted to kiss him, it had been too long since the last time we had kissed, but I didn’t think it was the right time, so I looked away, frustrated.

I felt his fingers on the left side of my jaw as he gently turned my face towards him. I was surprised and as nervous as a school girl. He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips, sending an uncontrollable shudder down my back and making the butterflies in my stomach fly around in frenzy.

Unable to control myself, I turned my body towards his and kissed him back, deepening the kiss and placing a hand on the back of his neck, when he broke away, separating his face a few inches from mine and smiling nervously, “Whoa, tiger. We have to take it slow, okay? I’m still a bit nervous about this all…”

He looked down, disappointed with himself, but I was ecstatic. I placed a hand under his chin and slowly raised his face to mine, giving him a last peck on the lips before saying, “Hey, don’t worry about it, babe. We can take all the time you want.”

He smiled back at me, relieved.

We got out of the car and bought some coke in the gas station store and used the bathroom. Then we headed back to the car and started the trip back to Emma’s house.

The trip back was completely differently from the first trip. We chattered cheerfully and sang along to songs on the radio, both of us happy with the turn of events.

Never again did we mention John Thompson nor did we hear anything about him. For Frank and me, it was as if he were dead.




…can’t find my way home, but it’s through you…




A/N: New Frerard Oneshot. It’s called “To The End”. It’s kinda tragic, but I’ve fallen in love with it. Hope you do the same =)
Read, comment and tell me what you think, and what you love/hate about it, what I can do to make it better, general opinions… anything and everything. Ratings are good too…

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next will be up real soon. Pinky promise.