If These Walls Could Talk [Frerard]

15: Where Do We Belong?

I quickly typed out a reply, my smile continuously fading as I hit send.

"I miss you already, I can't do this."

Frank responded within the minute, making me realize that this was how we were going to be talking from that point on. It made me even more terrified for the experience ahead of me, about how unknown everything was. I had no future assumptions that Mikey had given me, only telling me that it was a necessity in my life. I was terrified of the fact that I wouldn't have anybody right by my side, no one to help me through my panic attacks, no one to share things with. I wouldn't have any source of light in my darkest times, only strange doctors and uneducated nurses.

"Gerard?"

I looked up, Mikey motioning to my phone, which was lightly showing about ten messages from Frank. I slid the phone to unlock it. Frank continued to send more and more messages, I almost couldn't keep up. When I did, my hand flew to my mouth in a slight gasp.

The messages read:

"You can do this."

"I believe in you."

"I love you."

"I'm here."

"You can make it."

"You'll be back home in no time."

"Your squire is at your service. ;)"

"Rest well. Make sure to eat."

"I miss you."

My eyes were wide, and I tapped the screen, typing out the best reply I could. Trying to remain as unsuspicious as possible with Mikey and my dad in the same car, I struggled to take deep breaths.

"Frank, did I ever tell you I totally love you. I can't believe you're doing this for me. <3"

"Of course, gee. <33"

"We're pulling into the airport, I'm gonna try to continue texting you as much as I can."

"Don't worry about it, don't forget the Xanax I gave Mikey."

"Tysm ily"

Shutting the phone off with a successful click as it did so, I shoved it into the pocket of my MisFits hoodie. Mikey climbed out of the car first, and I followed not far behind. My dad parked the car, helping us take out the few but large bags from the back of the van-like car. Lugging them into the building and into the general area of waiting, my dad handed us the tickets before giving us one last hug and leaving the building.

Mikey's hands ran against his jeans, his face shooting a smile my way as commotion of other people surrounded us. I returned the smile, mine more weak and frail, but Mikey fixed his beanie before simply telling me in a voice so quiet, I wouldn't have heard him if I was slightly farther away.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"I can't believe you're making me do this, sir," I said, rolling my eyes and putting emphasises on the part about making me leave, "I'm not ready to leave Jersey anymore. Can't we just go home?"

Mikey shook his head sadly, making me summon a groan from the back of my throat, "We've payed too much money to let this go to waste. Besides, you need this, and there's no possible way you can deny it. I know you, and so does Frank. And if you really want what's best for Frank, then you'll do this. You'll be happier," Mikey replied. I wasn't listening, only until Frank was brought up in the conversation. That was when I realized that Mikey was right. It wasn't just me or my mind that needed this. Frank needed this. Before my mind could race forward into the train of thought, Mikey shuffled through his jacket, pulling out a box of Xanax. I snatched it from him, taking the dosage Frank had written me on the note, just to make sure I was safe when using it.