Careful

Chapter 2

Over the next week, my mother and I had taken countless trips to The Range, B&Q, Tesco, and many other shops. Mum wanted everything to be perfect for Frank.

My bedroom was slightly bigger than his, but we made it just as nice.

"He's quite...emo, I guess. Y'know? He wears black and listens to dark music and he plays the guitar. Reckon that will help?" She asked.

"A little." I shrugged.

We picked quite basic colours for the aesthetic of his bedroom, with whites and blacks and greys. Even some navy blue an deep reds in places. And by almost a week later, it was finished and looked ready for an "emo", as my mother would put it, to live in.

It was a Saturday, the night before he was supposed to arrive, and I was getting ready for bed, when there was a knock at the door.

"Gerard, can I come in, love?"

"Yeah, sure." I replied, softly.

She entered my room and sat on my bed, I joined her.

"What you up to?" She asked.

"Just my maths homework." I exhaled.

"Good boy, look. I've said before, Frank hasn't had it easy. I just...I need you to make sure that you don't get too attached."

"I never do." I smiled.

"Yes, I know, and I'm grateful for that, but Frank..." she paused before continuing, "He's going to be here for a lot longer, and it will be harder for you to keep your distance, emotionally, I mean. Do you get what I mean?"

I considered it for a moment, "Yes." I replied.

She exhaled a large amount of breath before hugging me.

"Don't let him influence you, love. You're a good boy, you have a bright future, don't let him ruin it."

I frowned in confusion into her shoulder, but hummed in agreement nonetheless.

She left my bedroom, giving me a concerned look as she did so, and I continued with my homework.

Once I had finished, I snuggled down in bed and fell asleep. Although, I couldn't deny the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I did so.

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I woke up at around 10, to my own accord. I would have gone back to sleep had it not been the day that Frank arrived. He'd be here in two hours, I needed to prepare.

I jumped in the shower and washed my hair, it had been a little while, I needed to make a good first impression.

Once I was out, I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans. They were my favourite pair, the perfect length, comfortable, they were a godsend, and thank god they were clean. And I put a Bowie shirt on and my black vans.

I went downstairs to get some cereal and found my mother cooking some breakfast already. She doesn't cook breakfast.

"Mum?"

She leapt up in shock, "Oh, yes dear?"

"What are you doing?" I asked warily.

"What do you mean? I'm cooking some breakfast, today's going to be tough."

I could see the bags under her eyes, she hadn't slept very well. But I couldn't bring it up, that was one thing that my mother hated, when I saw that she was weak.

"Oh. Well okay then." I smiled. She saw through it, I know she did, but she smiled back, appreciating the effort I was making.

We were in an uncomfortable, pitiful silence. She kept glancing up at me and I'd reassure her with a smile.