FicWad

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Frank’s POV
To those of you who don’t know; Hollyoaks is a soap here in the UK. It’s mentioned later on… I’m not just telling you for the sake of it! I have no idea where this came from… enjoy!
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“I heard you were thinking about moving?” Gerard asks me, stood to one side in our kitchen doorway.
“There’s nothing left for me here.” I reply curtly and walk past him clutching my coffee.
“How many times do I have to apologise?” He screams after me. I just close my bedroom door and lie face down on my bed. The truth is that it doesn’t matter how many times he apologises, it won’t make any difference, I’ll still need to go whether I forgive him or not. This whole fucked up situation is like an episode of Hollyoaks or something. This isn’t what real life is made of.

“Go away Gerard!” I shout at the door when I hear a tentative knocking. He walks in anyway. The small stuffed toy I throw at his head narrowly misses. He takes hold of my arms before I can throw anything else at him. “Get off me. Don’t touch me.” I snarl. I know I’m being a fool and making a scene but I don’t care. It hurts, it all hurts so God damned much and here he is trying to hold me, trying to tell me that everything will be Ok.

“Where will you go?”
“New York maybe. Depends where I can get a job.”
“Why can’t you stay?”
“Too many bad memories. Too many good ones to make me cry.”
“Frank you don’t have to do this we could work this through.”
“I just caught my boyfriend in bed with my ex girlfriend, who I left so I could be with him. How on earth can you make this better Gerard? Better for you? Maybe. But not better for me.” I break off before I start crying again.

There’s so much I want to say to him. So many things I want to tell him but I can’t. I just can’t. I’ll cry, or I’ll get angry, or I’ll make stupid promises I can’t keep. That’s why I can’t talk to him about this. But he won’t let me go.

“Please Frank. Just listen to me.”
“I’m not interested in any thing you have to say.” I reply coldly.
“You’ve got to understand.”
“Why’s that Gerard? To make your life easier? So that you can feel a little less guilty because hey! You broke my heart but that’s alright because now I understand.” I spit. I’m stood up now, looking him in the eyes. Looking him dead in the eyes and all I can see there is fear. Not love, not want, not even a pathetic needy glare, just fear. He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t need me, he’s just scared of what will happen if I leave.

“I’m going to call my parents in the morning and see if I can have the spare room for a while. I should be out of your hair by tomorrow afternoon. Then you can bring who ever you like back here and fuck them.” I growl, pick up my coffee and storm into the living room to start collecting my things together.

I pick up the guitar he bought me for my birthday and shove it into its case. Then I sort through the DVDs we have for the ones that are mine. Next I do the CDs, making sure I take every last one. I take my photo albums off the shelf and all my little nick knacks. I take a look at the half empty shelves that hold nothing but the odd photograph of the two of us and a million and one whale ornaments that Gerard insists on collecting. I knock them all to the floor and sit amongst them with one of my photo albums open on my lap.

I flip through the pages. Some hold photos of family holidays or group get togethers. There’s an action shot of Ray and Bob pushing Mikey into the hotel swimming pool. These photos aren’t painful. In fact most of them make me smile. But then I reach the pages filled with us.

There’s us in a coffee shop on our first date. We hadn’t just gone to the coffee shop but we’d stopped off in there on our way home from the theatre. There’s the two of us laughing and posing in front of a monument. We’d asked a passing tourist to take it for us. There’s both of us snuggled up in my bed in hats and scarves after spending the entire morning throwing snowballs at each other. We’d ended up making out in the snow. I swear I almost caught pneumonia.

I carry on flicking through the photos and don’t bother to restrain the tears coursing thickly down my cheeks. I take out the odd photo here and there and rip it up, throwing the pieces up in the air like confetti. I stop at one of them. I’m holding the camera. We’re both lying on the floor and the photo is taken myspace style. You’re head is resting on my shoulder and where as I’m looking directly into the camera you’re just staring at me. You look so in love. You look so in love with me.

I remove the photo from behind its plastic pocket and lick my lips, still holding the photo, just staring at the couple. Wishing I could have what they have. Wishing I could be part of that. I put the photo down on the coffee table, along with the photo album, and stand up. I sniff and rub my eyes on the back of my hand then stalk into the kitchen to make myself another cup of coffee. The other one had lain forgotten getting cold. This one would probably end up the same way but it gave me something to do that wasn’t thinking about Gerard. That was good enough for me.

I stay up late that night packing my bags and getting sidetracked by memories. I cry myself to sleep listening to our song in repeat on my iPod. I wrap my arms around myself and pretend it’s you holding onto me like you always would. You made me feel safe and protected and loved. Now it breaks me in half to look at you. If you touched me I would shatter. For that reason I could never be with you again. I may be heart broken but I’m not suicidal. I do not wish to explode just for you.

In the morning I make us both coffee and sit on the sofa thinking about what I would do next. At least I don’t have to worry about the band. That finished years ago. Maybe I could get a job as a journalist? Surely they’d want to hire an ex rock star with more contacts than teeth? Maybe I could get a new band started up? Fall for the lead singer again. Make it work out this time.
“Frank?” His voice startles me guiltily from my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Are you really leaving today? Really going?”
“Yeah.”
“Please…”
“Don’t.” I shake my head wearily. “Just don’t.” I reiterate and walk back up to my room to check I’d managed to fit everything into my one suitcase.

I’m sorry I’m doing this Gerard but I have to leave. I can’t just stay here forever like nothing happened. That’s not fair on me or you. It would just happen again, or I’d do it to you out of spite. We’d stay together because neither of us had a right to end it rather than because we wanted to be together. And that’s worse than me walking out the door right now.
I can’t break up with you and stay here either. I couldn’t bear to watch you with other men, or women, it would break my heart into a thousand more pieces. It would just complicate things. We wouldn’t be friends. We wouldn’t be enemies. We’d just exist there together. The thought of being around you and not being how we are… hell it’s making me want to cry just thinking about it.
I’m really really sorry but I have to do this.
I forgive you Gerard. I gave you my heart. I told you to do with as you pleased. You loved me for 3 of the best years of my life. And now it’s over. And no matter what you say that won’t change.
I love you Gerard.

Frank xo

I sign my name and examine my work. I look over to where Gerard is sat at the table looking glumly at his coffee. I collect my things and walk over to him, resting the note on the table next to his drink. “Good bye Gerard.” I whisper. He looks up and nods with tears in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I love you Frank.” He says and watches me retreat down the hall.

I’m half way down the stairs leading up to our flat when I hear him call out my name. I stop and wait for him to catch me up. He’s holding the letter I left for him.
“Please, take this.” He asks and presses something into my hand. I look down and see a small whale there. It was the one I first bought him, the one that kick started his obsession with the things. I knew it was his way of letting me go. Of telling me that he understood and that he was letting me leave him because he loved me and he wanted to do this for me.

“Thank you.” I whisper and press a small kiss into his cheek. “I’ll miss you.” I confess then continue walking. He doesn’t bother to try and stop me. He watches me walk down the rest of the stairs and then races to the window to watch my car drive down the road and out of site.

Every year on his birthday and at Christmas he would receive an anonymous package. All it would contain was a small whale statue wrapped in copious amounts of bubble wrap. “I love you too Frank.” He would always whisper before putting it on display where the world could see that stopping true love isn’t as simple as walking out of a door.