It had been a terrible week for Frank. Horrible. The worst. All of the grey clouds and no silver lining.
To begin, he had half of an assignment the night before it was due. Frank swore he had written it but due to the lack of words on the page, he could safely assume it was a cannabis assisted dream he was cursed with. So on the Monday morning, precisely four o'clock in the morning, Frank was writing. He was writing about 'Catcher In The Rye' luckily enough, the book report being on a read of his own choice- but that didn't mean he wanted to do it. Frank had finally finished the report by the time the sun shone through the windows and by the time his roommate Pete dragged himself back home, which was much too late for a school day, however it definitely wasn't getting him any A's, probably a B if his teacher was feeling happy.
Tuesday was off to a better start. Not.
The canteen on campus was closed and Frank was missing his dearly beloved chocolate waffles, soaked in chocolate sauce, that they served every single morning- besides that one, unlucky to Frank. Being late to every lesson surely could be blamed on his mourning of the waffles, not the fact Frank was still half asleep from Monday's mishap of pulling an all-nighter. His teachers did not seem to accept the excuse of "Tired." and instead still gave him work. Bummer.
Wednesday, he slept.
Thursday was a better day, classes finishing after lunch and leaving Frank with all the free time in the world!
Until Mikey Way called for a band practice.
Frank had accepted that if he was to become a world class guitarist then he would definitely need more band practice than less, but he was currently running on four black coffees and pure stress as his assignment piled up and his free time slimmed down.
But that wasn't Mikey's problem.
So with a slouch and a sigh, Frank dragged himself to Mikey's room- which was featured in his parent's house- and slumped down against his bed. "Mikes, I think I'm going to sleep for a year after tonight."
The lanky boy who was sat on the floor, fiddling with the amps treble feature, snapped his head around and rolled his eyes with an extraordinarily loud sigh. "Shut the fuck up, Frank. We have a gig tomorrow and I will kill you myself if you don't make it, if Bert doesn't kill you first."
"Fuck... Fine, fine. I'll sleep after that and you can just find a new guitarist, wait- Ray can just do it all." Frank snickered, finding himself quite funny even if Mikey was looking back at him with daggers. "Hey- When are Ray and Pete supposed to be here? Why do I have to come early?" He whined, realising he didn't have to speed walk all the way here- embarrassing himself the entire way.
"Well, it's because they're reliable and so totally not because Ray said he would bring me McDonald's if I didn't give him shit for being late." Mikey hummed, blissful with the promise of a Big Mac and some fries. "Oh also while I remember, no band practice next week my brother is here."
"You have a brother?!" Frank scoffed, sitting up quickly and gaping at Mikey- the boy who was way too secretive not to be a criminal. "Why don't you tell me these things, hm? Just because you don't live on campus, it doesn't mean you can live a secret life without me."
"Franklin, you're not my diary. I don't have to tell you anything- Hell, you're lucky that I let you in my room."
"The names not Franklin and we have to practice here, Ray's mom said we swore too much." Frank huffed, picking up the pillow that was to the side of him and lobbing it at Mikey's unsuspecting head- earning a loud yelp and a death glare. "Tell me about your brother, jackass. Every loser kid has a hot older brother, you've seen 'Diary Of A Wimpy Kid' right? You're wimpy, you have a diary- where's your Rodrick?"
