November 1st (Frerard)

16: Tuesday, October 16th

"So you think it's him?" Lindsey asked, the two sat at upon a bench at school - Lindsey tearing off bits of a ham sandwich and glaring it rather distastefully before placing each piece into her mouth, again, of course with an almost theatrical level of discomfort and hatred for the sandwich.

Frank shrugged, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his gaze fixated off into the distance: upon Ray and Pete and as to what their conversation could possibly hold judging by the scarlet colour Pete's cheeks had flushed. He wondered what they could think his and Lindsey's conversation held, judging by the somber and uncomfortable expressions upon their faces - he really did wonder as to what Ray and Pete thought went on in his head sometimes, because truth be told he was hardly the most public person when it came to his emotions, and he was easily the worst when it came to expressing them.

"I don't know." He exclaimed, biting down on his bottom lip and mentally cursing every thought that had found its way into his head: every thought detailing how things might go if it was Gerard who'd written those letters, and of course, what Frank could do about it, and how the date was the sixteenth of October, they were more than half way through the month and Frank had no clue at all.

"I'm sorry to say it, Frank, but you're bad at this. Pathetic even." Lindsey noted, tossing what remained of her sandwich into the bin. "Let me help you." She stressed her words, meeting Frank's gaze.

"And how would you go about doing so?" Frank asked, raising his eyebrows a little, "because you can't just go up to Gerard and be like-"

"I never said this had to involve Gerard." She smiled, getting up from the bench and gesturing for Frank to follow her. "We just find out who 'Mikey' is, don't we? How many Mikeys do you think there are?"

"Uhh... loads..." Frank exclaimed.

"Yeah, and how many Mikeys who are really close to someone who might drown themself?" Lindsey explained, "does Gerard know anyone called Mikey by chance?"

"No." Frank added, "I think if he did I would be freaking out a little more."

"Then, hey, maybe it's not Gerard. If he doesn't know a Mikey then it's really unlikely that it's him." Lindsey continued, watching Frank's expression light up a little. "Of course then, there's the matter of finding one person and helping them even when they won't want our help."

"I just want to know it's not Gerard, for certain." Frank spoke up, biting his lip a little, "Gerard matters more. Gerard matters the most."

She smiled a little, raising her eyebrows, "and have you kissed him yet?" Frank shook his head frantically. "Why not?"

Frank shrugged, "it's just not... not like that. I don't want to... I don't want to mess things up - he needs me, I need him, and whether I think he's cute or not, that just doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, does it?"

"God, this boy has made you selfless, I wouldn't be surprised if you told me he was a fucking wizard or something." She exclaimed, before glancing across at Ray and Pete and letting out a sigh, "I think we should start with them."

"I asked them though, back at the start of the month, just when I first found this letter, and-"

"And still, they could have met a Mikey in the past two weeks, come on, Frank, it's like you don't want to find out who wrote it."

And truth be told, a very strong part of Frank didn't, because more than anything, Frank was scared: scared that it could be Gerard, scared that it would be Gerard, scared of what he'd do, scared of how Gerard would react, scared of the world, scared of every morning, scared of every day in October, because every day would be a day closer to November, and come November Frank would be scared, so fucking scared, and so fucking alone.