*Frank's POV*
I was very grateful that Gerard took me out to eat, but I feared that if I didn't leave soon, he'd get annoyed by me and things would get uncomfortable. I was already ashamed as it is from crying about some stupid thing. I don't trust people. Even Gerard. He's a good friend and all, but I feel like he doesn't appreciate me as a friend as much as I appreciate him. I've known him forever and I let myself get attached to him. I never get attacked to anybody. I stay distant. I don't need anyone. Plus, I know very well that they'll leave anyway. Like they always do.
~
I went back to Gerard's house the next day after school since I wasn't necessarily needed at my house. I probably should've gone home because I had school in the morning but I didn't give a fuck. Gerard was lucky. He didn't have to go to school since he was twenty-two and I was still seventeen and stuck in the hell home that is highschool. It's weird to think that Gerard is already an adult. I've known him almost my whole life and now he's mature enough to do whatever he wants. God, I can't wait until I'm an actual adult.
I enjoy Gerard's company. Maybe a little too much. Obviously I'm not gay or anything, he's just always been there and I hope he always will be. We're like brothers.
Getting into Gerard's house was easy because I was there more often then my own home. I knew every scratch on the floor to avoid and walk around, I knew exactly where he kept everything, and I even memorized the pattern of his bathroom tile so I won't have to struggle with the anxiety of new patterns in which I have to find a new way to walk across.
I guess you could say I have this little thing called "Obsessive Compulsive Disorder," and it worsened by the years. Nobody really understands it an they see it as a joke. I will tell you now, this is no joke. It is not something you have when you feel the need to straighten a fucking curtain or some shit. It has complete control of my life. This is my life. This is my mind. Welcome to my really, completely, fucked up mind. I like it in here.
I walked straight up to his door, stepping around the tiny little crack in the cement. I raised my hand, making a perfect fist and located the precise upper center of the door before knocking exactly four times. It had to be four. Don't ask me why. It's just the patterns in which I had to do things. Two, four, five, or seven. Obviously two was to little of an amount to knock and five or seven was just to much. So it had to be four. I rarely used the number three in my patterns. Sometimes I did, but only if it related to the task at hand. But I typically didn't like that number. It was a shortcut for doing things in fives, and I just couldn't have that. Plus, three used to be a part of my mental patterns and I've just grown out of it.
After about ten seconds or so, Gerard opened the door with a wide grin. "Hey!" He greeted me warmly. I was glad to see him, but if only he'd step to the left a bit so I could walk through untouched, as well as be able to complete the task of walking through the front door in a satisfactory manner without any obstructions, then that would be great.
He realized that I'm not coming in until he moved, but instead of moving to the left, he moved to the right. The far right. Eventually I had processed that he was walking to his couch.
This bugged me a bit but it was better than nothing.
I walked through his door, recalling the previously memorized and mapped out view of his hardwood floor. I walk around the little scratches and bumps that usually goes unnoticed. But not to me. Never to me.
In three graceful steps I have made it through the obstacle of his front door and have successfully entered the living room. There was a small grease stain that I walked around in order to make it to his couch. One step at a time. Slowly, so I won't have to go back and retrace my steps because of an obstructed path.
I was satisfied when I made it to the couch, where Gerard was sitting patiently. This may all seem slow because of how complex my every movement is in my mind, when in actuality this had only taken a few seconds.
Finally, I hop onto the couch, swivelling my feet just so in order to barely pass behind the slightly darker spots and go around them before finally sitting all the way down. I sat on my feet so I didn't have to move them around the dark spots again.
Gerard smiled at me sweetly. "Hey. What's up?"
"Uh... Hey," I said quietly, in almost a whisper that he could have very well missed if he hadn't been acknowledging the fact that I was speaking in that exact moment. "Nothing much," I said in reply to his last question, but it was more to myself, as this was said in a much more soft tone. In this case I'm sure he missed it.
***
This entire chapter is literally Frank entering the front door of Gerard's house and sitting on the couch lmao. But the reason I wrote this little chapter is to kind of show you what goes on in his mind. I may as well also tell you guys that this is so what goes on on my mind at all times. All descriptions of Frank's mental state are coming from how I think and shit. I'm sorry if this chapter confused you. If you guys need clarification on any of the chapters with Frank's POV in the future or even this one, then just message me or comment and i will clarify. Gerard's POV should be more faced paced and easy to read and understand. So yeah... This is a kind of therapeutic fic for me to kind of write out how my mind works and to also appeal to my aesthetic in hypothetical or intriguing situations. In other words... I'm a fucking weirdo enjoy this fucked up fic. :)))
