Hey everyone, Eve here! So I know it's been forever since the last Folie update, but holidays and friends, yknow?
Anyway! Not much to say in this author's note, besides I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter, because I know I enjoyed writing it. I think it's my favorite chapter from Frank's point of view so far. You might notice that some of the scenes kind of leave some stuff that isn't fully explained / I could've explored further, but trust me, once you start reading, you'll know why, hopefully, and just no that (most) everything will be cleared up in the next chapter...
Anyway, sorry for the choppy / shitty editing on this haha.
Enjoy!
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I sat on the counter in the bathroom, half-turned, looking at myself in the mirror. I kept replaying the sound of his voice in my head; 'I love you.'
Why did he sound so fucking terrified?
I stared at my reflection. I looked like a wreck; my hair was unruly as hell and my eyes were tired, dull, not fully there. I was pale and looked sort of like a ghost. I looked depressed and tired and- and I looked like Gerard did when he was having an off day. I smelt like smoke and I was cold and I was tired and I felt like killing myself.
"Fuck," I said, pressing my hands over my face. We were both in such shitty shape. How does a couple consisting of two depressed, suicidal teenagers even happen? How the fuck was this working? It's hard to make someone happy when you feel like putting a gun to your own head.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I muttered, glaring at my reflection. I wanted to throw up. Gerard deserved so much fucking better than me. He deserved someone who could make him happy, someone who wouldn't fucking force him into saying things he obviously didn't want to say. Someone who wasn't so angry all the damn time and someone who didn't hate himself and someone who wasn't fat and ugly and selfish and stupid and suicidal. He deserved so much better.
There was a light knock on the door. "Frank?"
My fingers faltered as I ran them through my hair.
"Mikey?"
"Yeah. Hey, you okay?"
"I'm-" I had started to say 'I'm fine,' but I didn't want to lie to the kid. "I don't know."
"Ma said dinner is ready."
"Okay." I stood up and glanced at myself in the mirror one last time, wondering if anyone else noticed how dead I looked.
Mikey was standing right outside when I opened the door.
"Gerard is outside smoking," Mikey informed me.
"Okay."
"He's already on his second cigarette. He burns through them fast when he's upset."
I stuck my hands in my front pockets, curling them into fists. "Everything okay?" I asked him, staring.
"He loves you," Mikey told me. "He really fucking loves you, okay?"
I blinked. "I- I know. He just told me."
Mikey nodded. "I know, he told me what happened. But, he's- there's something wrong, I think."
"Yeah," I said quietly, nodding. "I think so too." The problem wasn't with Gerard, though. He'd been nothing but nice and patient and tolerant and considerate. Hell, I kissed another boy and he didn't even get angry. The problem here was me.
