runaways {frerard}

one

           -Frank's point of view-

The steady pitter patter of the rain against the metal bleachers was satisfying, though every once in awhile it would bead up and drip down my face as it slid through the metal slats. I didn't mind all too much though, anything was better than being cooped up in that hell commonly known as high school. Sometimes I'd hide out here even after school was let out, at most times home was worse than school.

I didn't exactly have the best relationship with my mom. It seemed that she was more preoccupied with trying to fix me, always trying to mold me into the perfect son she's always wanted.

She hated the fact that growing up I'd rather play the guitar than any of the sports she'd failed at getting me to like. At every birthday and Christmas she'd always tried to shower me in expensive clothes that always had a way of finding themselves to the very back of my closet, she hated that too. She had always insisted I cut my hair short, like all of the other boys. She said that keeping it long made me look like a girl.

She hated that I was me.

I was constantly reminded that I was just like my father. I never knew him, he left us before I was born. Maybe that's why she hated me so much. He broke her heart, and if she could turn me into everything he wasn't, then maybe she'd be able to forget him.

But I refused to be her remedy, and in return she would always see me as a disappointment.

Knowing her, she was probably anxiously awaiting my arrival. This was nothing new— I would avoid home for as long as possible, and when I finally showed she was waiting for me. She screamed, she yelled, I did nothing... and then it was over. 

I reluctantly hoisted myself from the ground, glancing at the time. I swung my messenger bag over my shoulder, the safety of the bleachers left behind me and being replaced by a harsh rain. The droplets slapped against my skin, collectively dripping down my face until I gradually became soaked. My hair clung to my forehead and my clothes grew heavy, but it was still better than being at home.

I swung the gate at the end of the field open, letting it bounce back noisily several times before it slammed shut behind me. It was raining harder now, it practically stung.  I shuffled into the road, not bothering to look for any oncoming cars as I began to cross.

Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get hit.

As if on cue, A pair of headlights approached through the rain, and I couldn't bring myself to move. I was frozen in the middle of the road, I couldn't move even if I wanted to— I was a deer in the headlights, literally.

This is it, I'm gonna get squashed in the middle of the road. Why the hell did I wish for this?

But then just at the right moment, tires skidded and brakes squealed. The van lurched forward before coming to a panicked halt, I'd just barely made it. I simply stood there for a moment, letting my narrow escape of death sink in. The car door slammed shut, jarring me from my trance.

"Jeez dude, you trying to get yourself killed?" A boy emerged from the red Volkswagen van.

I still stood wordless, not quite recovered from what'd just happened.

"Nah, I'm just playin'. I'm really sorry though, it's so hard to see with this damn weather." He filled the silence.

"No you're good, I shouldn't have just ran into traffic like that." I mumbled finally, stumbling back toward the road.

"Hey wait!" He stopped me, grabbing me by the wrist as I swiveled around to face him

"Do you need a ride? I can't just let you walk to wherever you're headed in this awful weather, It's the least I can do."