Runaway Scars - Frerard

Chapter 2

After the normally long and threatening talk with the police officers, and some guys from the state who chewed out his mom, Frank finally went home. Still, he heard his mother downstairs cussing and drinking and ranting on about him to her friends on the phone. Frank ignored. He always did.

    His room looked so abandoned; so still. It looked like someone just stopped time inside of it, or as if he went downstairs for a 30 minute dinner and simply never came back for days. But it was a lot more complicated than that. Frank flopped on his bed, which was still partially covered in clothes and school work, and closed his eyes. And he saw him again.

    Those same guilty eyes, blinking in his head, so real it kind of scared him.

    Gerard, of course.

    Frank couldn't help but feel hatred towards him now. He was finally free! He was finally happy, on his own, not having to worry about anything or anyone else; he was okay. And of course the one person he thinks he even BEGINS to trust, just turns him in and ends it all, sending him back into the prison called 'home'.

    Frank considered just taking it easy tonight, like the cops told him, because he always did. After coming home from one of his many attempts, he'd usually just sleep all day, or play guitar, or draw; something calm and by himself, just how he liked it.

    Fuck it, Frank thought as he grabbed his phone. How convenient; as one of Gerard's many goofy tricks, he took his phone and even added his number for convenience. He was actually kind of glad he did that for one reason at the time; he wasn't good at making friends. He didn't know when it was appropriate to exchange numbers or call or text after school or make plans. Gerard seemed to know. He was thankful for that.

    But now, Frank was thankful for a different reason.

    A stuttering voice answer after only a couple rings. "H-hello?"

    "Why?" Frank replied immediately, "Why couldn't you just let me be happy? I—I actually thought you were my friend."

    "I AM your friend!" Gerard insisted, "You're 17! You're too young to be living on your own! Most runaways are kidnapped, raped, or even killed out there."

    "Oh, thanks officer Way, I'll keep that in mind."

    Gerard huffed. "It's all true. I just want what's best for you."

    "What BEST for me?" Frank questioned, "I'll tell you what's best for me; you getting the fuck out of my life."

    As Frank began to hang up, Gerard's stopped him just in time. "I can help!"

    Frank actually stopped. He didn't think he would, in fact, he was surprised he did. But it was too late now. He scoffed into the phone. "Help? Help how?"

    "I know you're hurting, Frank, and I'll tell you that I used to hurt too. Sometimes I still do, and—"

    Frank cut him off, "Oh god, no, you're not my fucking counselor, I'm not having this talk with you."

    "But I—"

    "Gerard, I'm sorry if you're depressed, I'm sorry if you still are, but that's not my problem. I'm fine. I just want to leave." He paused and listened to Gerard's sigh of disbelief, but ignored. "Sorry, but your friend isn't your friend anymore, and he's not sticking around much longer."

    Frank hung up then, and Gerard's voice didn't stop him on the way there. He didn't even try. Frank wondered just for a second if he'd been too harsh, but quickly put the thought out of his mind. Gerard deserved it, he decided. He wrecked it; he wrecked everything. He always wrecked everything...

    A week and a half earlier

    Another day, another lunch period; another lunch period, another empty table Frank would end up sitting alone at. So he did, and he didn't have a problem with that. He was quite contest sitting by himself at a table, in fact, it gave him a chance to think, listen to some music without getting his precious iPod taken away, and just relax.

    As Frank went to go dump his tray, he suddenly made contact with something else when he turned around. He flinched, shutting his eyes. Probably another bully, he thought as he clenched his fists. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a black haired boy, face red and mouth open with shock, holding the end of a tray that was now mostly empty.

    Frank looked down at himself and saw that this guy's lunch was literally ALL OVER his shirt; his BLACK FLAG shirt, that was. He mentally counted all the condiments and substances that were definitely going to stain it. There were at least six.

    "Oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry man, I—shit, I ruined that perfect shirt, I'm so fucking sorry..." the boy babbled. Frank was getting madder by the second but it was slowly clouded by the curiosity he had for this guy. He'd never even seen him around. Did he even GO to this school?

    "I—um..., it's...it's fine..." Frank mumbled, attempting to wipe some of the bigger pieces off. It just got all over his fingers in a mush, making him want to barf.

    "it's not fine, here, I've got an extra shirt in my locker, come with me." The boy grabbed Frank's arm and whisked him away, going down the hall only a few feet before opening a rusty green locker.

    Frank took note of the weird things they fell out of it once opened; tissues, pencils, pens, markers, crumpled paper, (some clearly not school work) and the boy sifted through all of it before becoming victorious with a plain black shirt.

    He smiled at Frank and gestured toward the backroom throwing it at him as they walked in.

    "Give me that shirt so I can try to wash out some of that nasty food...again, I—I'm so sorry..." his voice trailed off as he rubbed his head nervously.

    Frank sighed. "Just shut up and tell me your name."

    He smiled lightly and replied, "Gerard."

    "Frank." He replied immediately, only glancing up as he peeled the soggy shirt off his body.

    Gerard gathered the shirt and quickly scurried over to the sink. He put it under the water and began scrubbing as Frank wiped off some of the stuff that had seeped through. A few minutes past, and Gerard turned around sadly with a stained Black Flag shirt and a frown.

    "I wrecked your shirt." He stated in a low voice, handing it over to him.

    Frank shrugged, taking it roughly and balling it up. "Whatever. It's fine."

    They both stood there and Gerard stared at Frank in a weird way. Frank noticed it, and he knew why; Frank was just weird. He acted weird in social situations, he did weird stuff, and he just made people suspicious.

    "You're not a Senior, are you?" Gerard finally questioned as they started exiting the bathroom.

    Frank shook his head. "Junior."

    "I'M a senior."

    "No shit." Frank scoffed.

    Gerard hesitated now, feeling a bit insulted, but obviously not caring.

    "Do you, maybe, wanna...hang out today? After school?"

    The bell rang right after Gerard asked this. It was a very awkward thing to ask, especially for Gerard, AND for how short they'd known each other, but Frank wouldn't have been able to tell. Frank looked at Gerard for a long time and nodded.

    "Yeah. Sure." Frank agreed. "Find me somewhere."

    Gerard nodded with a smile. "I'll find you."