Kissing Through The Fence (Frerard)

I'll be back

At first I laughed.

"Um...yeah you do, he's the one that's been chasing us for the longest time." Two empty eyes stared back at me. "Oh shit um...look at the files, they're in the backseat." He scrambled to the back and started flying through his file. The immediate silence that followed told me everything.

"Mikey..." said a small whisper from the back. "I have a big brother named Mikey..." I nodded.

"It seems like he doesn't know...that you're related and stuff." I said, trying to crack the tension that had settled. "Read a bit more, maybe we can find out why he's following us." He nodded and I kept driving, trying to find a place to stay.

"It does say he had lots of hallucinations about...Them?" I pulled into the parking lot of a small motel and climbed into the backseat with him.

"What...them?" I asked and got out to sit next to him. "See if it says more." He frantically flipped through the pages to the section about his mental illness.

"No information...why? What does that mean? Why have I never known that I had a brother?" I could see him getting more and more frustrated with every question until he absolutely exploded.

"Why the hell are you so weird?!" He looked into my eyes and I could see his regret. I got out and slammed the door. I know he meant well, but I just can't help the memories that come flooding back...

"What the hell is that, Frank?!" He said, gesturing to my new guitar.

"It's my guitar! Don't you like it? I've spent years saving up for it." I asked, proud. He just ran his hands through his hair repeatedly, so I knew his mood was changing, and fast. I shrank back, waiting for the first hit, but it never came.

He sighed. "No, I dont like it, Frank. I thought you were out at baseball practice this whole time. Where were you?"

"I was...I was at Dallon's house doing chores so I could get money..."

"Dallon? You mean that faggot at your school?"

"Please don't say that wo-"

"WHAT THE HELL DID I SAY ABOUT HANGING OUT WITH FAGGOTS LIKE HIM? THIS IS WHY YOUR MOTHER LEFT. BECAUSE YOU'RE ONE OF THEM." I felt the first hit, across my face.

"Dad, plea-" He knocked me down before I could finish. He then ran his hands through his hair and smiled at me. He then carried me up to my room.

"We're about to see how much of a fag you really are." He began ripping off my clothes as I sobbed through it all.

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After he was done, he left my room. I never saw him again. I got in the shower and scrubbed until my skin was raw and the hot water ran out. Then I left. I packed away my guitar and never saw that house again. The only thing I have to remember that day is a single picture of my mother I found in his room and Pansy, my guitar.

"Frank, oh please stop crying... I'm so sorry...just please stop crying." I looked up at him and realized I was on my knees, sobbing in the middle of a motel parking lot. I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe up my tears and sniffed. "The picture in your wallet...was she your mother?"

"How did you find that?" I asked.

"Your wallet fell out when you got out so suddenly..." He looked down and I nodded.

"Gee, I have to go back home."

"Then I'm going with you." I shook my head frantically.

"You stay here. Use the last of our money to rent a room for a few days. Lock yourself in the room and only come out for food and emergencies. If he comes for you, use this." I went in the car and got the gun and the money. "Here. It's gonna be dangerous, but I promise I'll be back." He tackled me in a hug, tears streaming down his face.

"Please don't leave me, you won't make it back. The police are looking for us. You could get killed and I could never see you again..." I shushed him.

"I'll be back."

And with that, I got in the car and was on my way.