Our Foundations from Decay

Gerards POV 39

Me and Frank lay tiredly on my bed, the after-effects of a long school day burdening our bodies.

"Alright, you ready to spy on my mom? Now's the perfect opportunity." Frank spoke as his emerald eyes fixated on the ceiling above him.

He's right. It is a perfect chance to get evidence; Dad's making a run to the supermarket and Mikey's at an after-school chess tournament with Kristy to cheer him on. That leaves Frank's mom in the living room all by herself.

I mentally prepared myself to get up and put on my Sherlock Holmes persona. My eyes glared at a certain green cheerleader dress lying on the floor, one drenched in intimate memories from last night, an intoxicating smell of alcohol imprinted on it. Man if only I had a Sherlock costume.

An affectionate hand appeared before me, nails adorned in smudged polish. "C'mon," said my boyfriend as he lifted me from my bed, "we got this."

Frank and I snuck downstairs, his mom sitting alone on the couch just as we suspected.

I glanced over to Frank, his pretty emerald eyes were dark and bitter while his blissful lips quivered with emotion. It then occurred to me, Ohh... he hasn't been this close to his mom since the night that he kicked her out.

I wondered what he would feel like. Your neglecting, raging, mother sitting so close to you; so close you can reach out your hand and she would be able to grab it, except if Frank did, she wouldn't reach back. She wouldn't try to hold his hand or pull him in, she'd leave his pleading fingers to starve. Not me, though.

I grabbed the boy's hand, intertwining his pleading fingers with my caring ones.

Frank looked up at me, those bitter eyes softening as he stared into mine.

"Remember what you said, we got this." I smiled at him, nodding my head as reassurance.

"Right," he smiled back, a unique colour reflecting within his irises, is it love?

"Hey, look! What's she doing?" Frank whisper-shouted, pulling me back from the cloud I was floating on.

What is she doing?

The woman glanced around suspiciously, then reached for my dad's bag, pulling the zips back and shoving her greedy hand into its insides.

Is she stealing from him?

"Frank, record this!" I commanded in a panicked state.

"On it." He whipped out his cell, zooming in on the culprit before us.

She finally pulled her hand out of the bag, an array of 50 dollar notes gripped in her cold fist.

"Frank, she's stealing money from Dad!" my toes curled in the soles of my shoes, I had to physically stop myself from marching over there and yanking the money off her. I mean, how dare she steal from us? She is a parasite!

"It's okay, I got it all on tape," he signalled to the device in his hands, "Now let's go back and hide in your room, your dad'll be home soon, anyways." I suppose he was right, this was more of a waiting game.

We scurried back upstairs, staring through my bedroom window as the car pulled up the driveway.

I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Frank, this is daunting. I-I don't know if I can do this, I don't want to be the reason my dad can't be happy."

"Honey, do you think he's happy now? He may seem like it, but he's being manipulated. I know it's hard, but we gotta end his suffering, okay?" he stroked my cheek gently, tucking away wispy strands of hair from my face.