FicWad

((Frank's P.O.V.))

2 months later


“Happy Birthday To You, Happy Birthday To You! Happy Birthday Dear Frankie! Happy Birthday To You!”

As cliche it sounds, I blow out the candles on the cake commemorating my 25th birthday and make a wish. It's a cool Halloween evening, and while most people are out partying or taking their kids out trick-or-treating, I'm here on the My Chemical Romance tour bus with Gerard, Mikey, and Ray, blowing out my birthday candles.

I'm trying to paste a plastic smile on my face, but it seems the glue keeps losing its stickiness. Because here I am, on my 25th birthday, and I'm supposed to be having a great time. I'm supposed to be laughing and drinking and having fun with my friends, but instead I'm pretending to do so while holding back tears.

What's sad is that the only reason I'm so fucking depressed right now is that as I blow out the candles, I'm wishing that Bob didn't forget my birthday once again.

I finish blowing out the candles and hear the three of them cheer for me, but I'm not really listening. I tell them I'm going to get something from my bunk in order to excuse myself. I walk to the bunk area and lay down, screaming Bob's name (among other things), muffling my cries by screaming them into my pillow.

I reach far under the mattress and pull out a small knife that seems to have become my best friend over the past few months. Of course, Gerard is also my best friend, but he could never give me the relief that this knife gives me as I press it into my skin. I close the curtain to my bunk and pull down my pants a bit. I have to cut on my thighs so no one sees the scars. Sure, Bob sees them when we have sex, but he really couldn't give a fuck what I do to myself anymore.

I press the knife into my thigh a bit and drag it up my skin, watching the blood slowly creep out of the wound. For a moment I feel like I have been underwater for over 6 minutes and I am finally taking a breath of the oxygen I need so badly.

Relief.

I quickly grab a tissue I have stashed under my pillow and dab the wound with it, though it won't make much of a difference. I pull my pants back up and quickly run to the bathroom to fix myself before I return to the guys. An apologetic smile on my face, I rejoin them and tell them I could not find what I was looking for.

I know Gerard can see past my lie but he says nothing.

I'm glad.

We spend the entire night doing all the things they know I love doing on the bus, seeing as I wouldn't exactly be able to have a good time since there are so many people out tonight.

((Still Frank's P.O.V.))

It's 3AM and Bob still isn't back. I'm sitting on the couch of the living room area of the tour bus, watching The Nightmare Before Christmas on TV. Before he turned into a monster, Bob had said this was one of his favorite movies. Ray, Mikey, and Gerard are asleep. They all had looks of concern on their faces when I said I was staying up to wait for Bob. Gerard almost stayed up with me for yet another night of tears and false comforts, but I told him I would be fine. I know he knew I was lying, but he's a good friend in that he doesn't persist. He simply shook his head and dragged himself to bed in his infamous skeleton pajamas. And although he thought I couldn't hear him, he mumbled a long line of incoherent obscenities with Bob's name and mine mixed among them. I shivered when I heard the word kill thrown in.

I'm crying right now, not really paying attention to the movie. In fact, the only reason I have it on is because I can't let Gerard hear me sobbing, which I know he's listening for. A little while ago I went to the bathroom to get tissue and was amazed at how red and puffy my eyes were. Yet, it seemed, it made me….pretty, in some sad way. Maybe that's why Bob loves to make me cry so much?

I jump a bit when I hear the door to the bus open and Bob's drunken laugh come slowly up the six steps. I look at the clock; 3:21 AM. He's early, I think to myself. But another figure comes staggering up the stairs behind Bob. I am startled partly because he frightens me and partly because I just felt my heart drop to the floor and shatter to a million pieces.

“See,” Bob says, pointing me out to the other man. “I told you I've got a cute one waiting back here for me.”

“You sure do,” mumbles the man, licking his lips slightly. I cringe at the sight of him. “Is he any good?” he says, his words slurring past the point of incoherence and into the realm of mangling the English language.

“Why don't you see for yourself?” Bob says, guiding him to sit on the couch.

“Get up, Frankie,” Bob tells me, pulling me off the couch. I feel a knot form in my stomach as Bob pushes me onto my knees in front of the man. I look at Bob with pleading eyes. “Well Frankie,” he says, “You know what to do. It's not like you haven't done it before!” he says, throwing his head back and laughing hysterically. The other man eventually joins in. When he catches his breath Bob bends down to whisper in my ear.

“Besides, Frankie, if you don't do this, I'm just gonna have to hit you again, and this time it's gonna be real bad,” he says. I feel tears form in my eyes and as I turn to look at the man again, I see that he has taken it upon himself to unzip his jeans and release his erection from its tight confines. He shrugs expectantly, and I glare at him, refusing to do what he wants me to do. The man grunts and puts his hand at the back of my head, pulling my hair and pushing my mouth down onto him. I wasn't expecting this, and I gag as he bucks up into my mouth and reaches the back of my throat. I can't breathe.

The next thing I know, Bob is pulling my pants down and he enters me quickly and roughly. I wince as I feel pain shoot up my spine. Never before has Bob done this to me without lube and without consent. I begin sobbing, the man still pushing me down onto him and Bob still thrusting in and out of me painfully, and I am praying for someone to pull me out of this nightmare. I manage to pull away from the man long enough to scream Gerard's name.