Save Me From My Self Destruction. (Frerard)

Chapter 10- Trapped In A Museum Of Morbid

Trapped In A Museum Of Morbid-

We sat in the cemetery grass, passing my cigarette back and fourth. There were no words being said at the moment, just the sound of our inhaling and exhaling. In a way, it was morbid and relaxing.

Frank exhaled his cigarette smoke, passing me the cigarette again as he looked at me. "I wanna get a tattoo." Is all he said, with a serious face. I smiled at him, knowing tattoos would suit him. Frank was like a work of art, he was a clean canvas yearning to be painted.

I could imagine pictures and words painted across his smooth flesh, popping out with bright colors. If there was a god, the only thing he ever did that was right was craft Frank Iero with his own two hands. Frank was like clay, he was smooth and warm and had the potential to be so much more. Which, Frank was. He was so much more, more than I would ever amount to.

"You should do it," I said, inhaling the smoke one last time before I smashed the cigarette out on the ground. I fished the pack out of my pocket and looked towards Frank, "want another?"

Frank shook his head, watching me closely. It was as if he was studying me, biting his bottom lip slowly. "Is something bothering you?" He finally asked. I cocked an eyebrow at him and looked up from my pack of cigarettes, "No, why?" I asked him, generally curious.

He picked blades of green grass with his stubby fingers as he thought. "You're lying. Is it a secret?" He didn't bother looking up from his grass that he held between his thumb and index finger. It was as if he was lost in some sort of thought.

"Why would I keep secrets?" I about chuckled. It seemed silly to me that I would keep secrets, I had no reason to be keeping secrets. But then, Frank looked up at me. I basically choked on air from the expression on his face, he was serious. "Everyone has secrets, Gerard." He said as he stood up from the cemetery floors, dusting off his dark jeans.

I joined him, ignoring the dirt and grass on my own jeans. I shoved the pack of cigarettes back in my pocket and stood next to him. "Then what's yours?" I asked, in which he respond by giving me a shit-eating grin. "Why would I keep secrets?" He mocked me as he started to walk away.

I don't think he knew how serious I was. I stared at him as he walked away, leaving me behind. I felt lost, misplaced. His words took me by surprise, and now I was interested in the meaning behind them. He seemed like he knew so much, like he was lost or misplaced like I was.

Something was bothering Frank, just like something bothered me. But they were two totally different subjects. I could brush mine off, sibling drama. But not Frank, no, something was getting under his skin. Something was polluting his thoughts and he almost seemed scared.

I felt like I was useless at this point. I wanted to help him, I wanted to show him how much I cared. But how could I when I didn't know what I was supposed to be helping with? He had a problem that was unknown to me, and he would not make it known. I didn't wanna push him, or pry into his business.

I went back to the foster facility empty handed. Of course I had the packs of cigarettes sitting in my pockets, the reason I left in the first place. But I didn't return with anything that would rid myself of the ignorance that radiated off of me. I was still an ignorant bastard.

Mikey was sitting at the bar in the kitchen with Kristin, holding her hand tightly as they laughed and ate their lunch. I felt physically sick. Not because of Kristin and Mikey, but because I felt like maybe Mikey not needing me was good for once.

I guess that this moment was inevitable, the moment where Mikey and I would butt heads and go our separate ways. I just didn't think it would occur so soon, well I was wrong. Mikey smiled and laughed, and I was here watching him as my chest ached.

I sluggishly climbed the creaky wooden stairs up to my bedroom. For the first time in a long time, I sat on my floor with the door shut. I stared at the wall and thought about all the times I've fucked up.

I didn't know what was happening. Everything was changing at an unstoppable and rapid pace. My heart was beating out of it's chest, I was stressed and needed rest. But I just wanted to sit here and stare at this bland colored wall.

I wanted to do everything but nothing all at once. Like I knew that staring at a wall was extremely uninteresting and at most boring as all hell, but I didn't have the motivation or interest to do anything else. It was like I was drained from all my energy, leaving me cold and empty. Alone.

Tears slipped out of my eyes as I realized, maybe I was going insane. Maybe I was falling in love. Maybe I was just dying inside.

I longed for the feel of Frank's warm lips against my own. I needed his touch, his eyes on me. I needed to know what was bothering him.

Frank wasnt just a human boy, he was everything. He was the sun that decided to rise every morning, he was the oxygen that entered my lungs. Frank Iero was the rare piece of art in a museum that I couldn't touch but stared at religiously, we were from two totally different worlds.

I didn't smoke as I stared at the wall, I didn't move or make sound, I sat there. I was alone, family deprived, I felt like I was already dead.

My mind raced with thoughts I couldn't comprehend, I dreaded waking up every morning, every breath I took was painful. I just needed something to calm the nerves I felt.

So then I fished the single blunt out of my pocket, put it between my lips, and lifted the white bic lighter to the tip.

If it was okay for Zack, for the others, why can't I just be that calm?