November 1st (Frerard)

4: Thursday, October 4th

Ever since he was fourteen, Frank has just had this idea in his head that life is utterly meaningless, and one day everything he knows will just fade away into nothingness, and maybe he wanted to be prepared for that, but after these years, he knew that he could never be prepared for that, and he knew everyday that he'd wake up with an ache in his chest as he buried a thought or two that had resurfaced from the depths of hell he called his subconscious at something like half two in the morning, but he'd never quite expected this.

This unshakeable hopelessness in the form of an anonymous letter detailing too much and too little at the same time; he wanted to know more to know everything, and now not just to rid his stomach of that awful sinking feeling every stomach, when he awoke to early, and with ears red and raw, and a world outside: a sunrise outside, and Daisy sleeping at the end of his bed, and silence and loneliness and the empty world.

But it's not like that come October fourth, because Kat's an early riser, and a silent one at that, and the two share the oddest look, of shaken, half tear stained gazes and words never uttered, because they both know more than they're willing to admit it.

And it's too early, and Frank's too scared, and his hands have already made it half way to the drawer where the letter was hidden, and Kat's lips have every question on them, and Frank's absolutely terrified of every single one.

He's scared; he's scared of Kat, he's scared of everything, he's scared of the person who wrote the letter, he's scared of the letter himself, he's scared of thunderstorms, he's scared of the rain, he's scared of early mornings, he's scared of sleeping in too late, he's scared of himself, he's scared of what will become of him, and most of all he's scared of November 1st.

And he knew that at least he's not alone, because there was someone else out there in this town that felt the same way, someone else that the dreaded date meant so much too; someone Frank wanted to know, someone Frank already did, but not quite.

Frank knew he couldn't just go back to sleep, especially with Kat looking at him like they were: all wide eyes and awkward looks, and he shouldn't say anything at all, but Frank did, because Frank's an idiot, and he wore that title like a crown, "why are you looking at me like that?"

Kat let out a sigh, pushing their hair out of their face, "you talk in your sleep; you have some fucked up dreams."

"I... uhh... what kind of fucked up... I?" His face flushed a bright shade of red, and he was pretty damn sure he didn't have a boner, but-

"Dark, just... twisted, I guess... from what I heard anyway... do you really not remember a thing?"

Frank shook his head, uttering a simple and somewhat flustered, "no."

"It's probably better you don't." Kat let out a sigh, "I think it's an okay time to get up now anyway, just take twice as long in the shower and forget about it." And Frank tried to, as he stumbled to his feet, but the tone in Kat's voice ensured that he couldn't shake it.

And he knew that at some point, the dream would come to him, and everything would change, and with Frank's luck, for the worse.

-

Kat was good at pretending: that everything was okay, that they'd apologise to their parents, that they'd even come back home, that they'd do it for Gerard, that they'd call Pete back, that they wouldn't judge Frank for what he said in his sleep.

Kat was perhaps even better at lying, and it showed, because they told the world that they were fine, and they told themself that they'd go back home and make things right, and they'd told Pete that they'd sort things between them too, and of course, they'd lied to Frank earlier like it was little more than routine, and they'd let Frank make his way to school, with some nonsensical promise about going home first and that maybe they'd see each other there, but maybe there.