I still want more. ((Frerard))

Let's say goodbye, the hundredth time

            

We walked and joked around again for a while, just like nothing happened just a few minutes before. I was glad he didn't try and kiss me again, I wasn't sure I'd be able to reject him again. It was a torture, knowing that it would have been my last chance to meet his soft lips. But I couldn't let myself go, I just couldn't do that to Lindsay, not again, not after everything we've been through because of my sick relationship with Frank.

But still, I wanted to kiss him, to hold him and tell him not to leave me.

But I couldn't, because he wasn't mine.

Not anymore.

He took my hand, squeezing it lightly and smiling at me, that stupid, cute smile that I was hating so much. It made the torture even worst.

"What are you smiling at, Frankie?" I asked with a childish tone, bumping his shoulder with mine, without leaving his tiny hand.

"Nothing, asshole and don't call me that" he snapped.

I apologised softly.

We stayed quiet for a bit, just walking and holding hands. I was slightly nervous, I didn't want to give him the wrong idea, I didn't want him to think that I wanted something more, but at the same time I did want something more, but he didn't have to know. He had to think that I was happily married and that I didn't miss him in a romantic way, but just as a friend misses another.

I couldn't fool myself, telling myself that we weren't in love anymore, that I wasn't in love anymore, but maybe I could fool him.

We kept going on, my head low and my thoughts on full speed, making me feel some kind of sick. A wave of nausea suddenly hit me and I had to stop and close my eyes, focusing on not passing out right there and then, trying not to make Frank notice what was happening.

He led me to a skate park, where I used to spend a lot of time with Ray and Mikey when we were younger.

It had been a joyful time for me, the only time when I felt like I fit in, but it ended fast, with the beginning of my alcohol addiction, that never made me left my home. I had some really good memories connected to that place and being there again, after all those years made me feel so much nostalgic it almost made me cry.

Frank squeezed my hand again, looking at me worried and I shyly smiled at him, reassuring him I was okay, even though I really wasn't.

I began feeling like I made a huge mistake, meeting him again.

I couldn't think about I wouldn't be able to see him anymore, to call him when I was drunk and sad and I was missing him and ask him to come over.

I needed him there, near enough that I could call him and being able to see him in an hour and being there, holding his hand, made me realise I wasn't going to be able to do it anymore, once he would have gone, and it was tearing me apart.

But, again, I couldn't ask him to stay, I just wasn't in the position to do it, I had to let him go, to let him be happy without me and I knew how much he always hated New Jersey and how happy he was going to be when he'd be miles and miles away from here and from me. I was sure as hell he'd be happier without me and I had to let him go, even if it was killing me.

For once in my life I had to be the one who sacrificed for the Frank's sake and not the selfish dork I've been my whole life.

I let out a soft sigh, still smiling at him. He grinned at me, his eyes locked with mine, with a veil of sadness covering them. Maybe he was thinking the same depressed shit that haunted my mind.