The Ghost Of You (Frerard)

Frank.1

"How are you Frank?" My mom had asked as I sat down in the backseat of the shitty old car we like to call Bertha and threw my crutches in the ratty seat beside me. She just picked me up from 'group therapy'. Its a load of shit honestly. Im fucking dying and no amount of talking about my feelings can change that. But my mother thinks otherwise.

"Im fine Ma. Same as usual." I said, just to make her happy. The car ride home was filed with silence and one-sided conversation held up solely by my mother. She could talk for days and still have more to say. Not that that's a bad thing necessarily. I'm not much of a talker these days so she likes to fill the emptiness. Not that I mind.

We got home alright. Maybe one day I'll get into a horrible fucking car accident that just happens to only brutally fucking murder me. I stopped wearing my seatbelt a long time ago. Oh well maybe I'll die a horribly tragic death here soon enough because of this god-damned fucking cancer. It's already broken my fucking leg. What next?

I went up to my room. Well, hobbled. I can't do shit with this god-damn fucking cast on my leg. My room looked like a hell hole. I liked it that way. My mother however did not but I don't think she could yell at her fucking dying son with a broken fucking leg because of his shitty ass cancer, to clean his room now could she? I didn't think so. So I did what most other teenage boys did. I watched an asston of television, listened to shitty music that I thought was cool, played a beat up peice of scrap metal I called Pansy the Guitar, and pissed off during school cuz why the hell not? I have fucking cancer. I'm untouchable. I can do whatever the hell I want. Except the one thing every god-damn person wants me to do and that is to except their pity. I'm dying. No amount of flowers or get well soon cards or I'm sorrys will change that fact. I've accepted that already. Why can't everyone else?

Today was a Saturday. Thank fucking god. Even with this stupid dumb ass cancer I still have to regularly go to school as much as I can. I do get out for an asston of doctor's appointments and chemo treatments but really, where's the fun in that? I get to sit and answer questions and get pricked with needles and injected with liquids that I don't want and miracles I don't need. Can't I just fucking die already? Am I allowed to do that? Or do I have to ask my mother's permission?

I layed down in bed. I was too damn tired to contemplate death at the moment. So I did what I do best and I pretended and hoped and prayed that I was actually dead. Just for shits and giggles.

It was my senior year. Most other kids' senior years were filled with parties and drugs and booze. I had drugs alright. Just not the kind anyone wants. I had chemo and surgery and pain meds that made you loopy which were not to bad actually. No sex,no parties, and no fun. I was the sole founder and member of the no fun club. But hey, who needs fun when you're fucking dying huh? Not this guy.

I had layed on my bed for quite some time before my mother had come in to ask me if I wanted a snack. I said sure. That was a mistake. It was coming back up into the trash bin before I could even finish the whole sandwich and fruit smoothie. What a waste. My frail body was wracked with shakes and shivers and my body rejected the food I tried to feed it. When I was done I said thank you to my mom as she took my half-eaten tray back to the kitchen anyways. She gave me an apologetic smile which I chose to ignore.

20 minutes or so more of the death pretense and she was back again to give me my medication. A whole fucking 8 pills. All just in a useless attempt to keep me alive.
She made me take them anyways. I didn't bother to argue, the previous wretching had stolen all the energy and anger I had left in me for the night. I didn't even try to bat her away when she pressed a kiss to my forehead as I handed back my now empty glass that had once held water.

"Get some sleep Frank tomorrow we have an appointment with Dr. Novak at noon so I would like you to be up and ready to go by 11. I love you. Now get some rest I'll see you in the morning." My mom had said to me.

"'Kay. Love ya too." Is all I had managed to mumble out. She left and the door closed behind her, open still just about an inch so she could come in if she needed to. I wish she'd've closed it all the way.

I hobbled my way to the bathroom just off of my bedroom, having gave up on the wretched crutches, and shut the door. The lock had been long since removed so I didn't bother to even try. I turned on the shower head and began to carefully and weakly peel off my shirt. I was so tired. I looked in the mirror. A corpse stared back. The cancer took everything from me, my hair, my sense of humor, my happiness, my energy, can't it just take my fucking life already? It has everything else. I was so skinny and frail. My hair clung to head in patches; I refused to shave it. My fringe will reign on forever. Except it fell out months ago. Since then I had been wearing a dirty and dingy old black beanie to cover my rats nest. I then took off all my other clothes, including my nasty ass hat, and carefully worked my torn-up jeans that used to fit but now were extremely baggy, off and around that stupid cast. Then I grabbed a trash bag from under the sink and wrapped it arounf the dumb thing.

Once I was under the hot water everything seemed kinda okay. I was warm. My thoughts were free to roam though which did present itself to be a problem. But I just scrubbed and scrubbed at my body until I was red and the water was cold and my mind was clear. I had gotten out and wrapped myself in a big fluffy towel and took the dumb ass trash bag off my leg and thrown on some boxers that practically hung off of me.

I opened the door and let all the steam out and hobbled back over to my bed and sat down. I was out of breath from the walk of about 10 feet. How pathetic. I used my last gust of energy to pull myself under the covers and flick off the light beside me.

I had been exausted it had only taken me anout an hour to fall asleep which was lucky for me, it normally took me 3 or 4 good hours before I fell asleep. I guess some of those pills really do help sometimes. Maybe not though. Maybe I'll die in my sleep. That seems kind of a lame way to go but I'll take what I can get. I slept through the night but unfortunately awoke in the morning in time for my appointment.

The doctor had said that everything is as good as its gonna be for a person who is basically fucking dying so I have to go back to school on Monday. Yay me. I can't wait. Can't you just hear the sarcasm?

I lounged around the house for the rest of the day, mostly sleeping, just living takes a lot out of you when you're fucking dying. Sounds exciting doesn't it? Just another day in your average cancer patients' life. Can't this just be over yet? I think about that for the rest of the day. And then I went to bed. How amazing. Wow. Maybe I'll die in my sleep. Tonight could've been my lucky night. Eventually. Eventually I will fucking die and there is not a god-damn thing anyone can do about it. And that makes me so happy.

***
K so im writing another story. We all knew it would come to this eventually: a frerard fic of my otp. I had to.
Don't get too attached to Frank, if you know me at all you know I just love to kill off main characters so watch out its coming. I warned you.
Gerard will be the next chapter. And then Frank, alternating so on and so forth.
I changed my writing style for this and Gerard's parts will be different as well.
I talk about death weirdly a lot in this chapter. Probs gonna be a reoccurring theme lol.
Anyways I like this so far. Let me know what u think, u know the drill. Sorry for the spelling mistakes I dont actually care enough to edit this shit to fix it and check for mistakes. Oh well.

Xofrnk