50 Thoughts That Scare Me [Frerard]

I Love You -Chapter 9

"So, how are you feeling?" The therapist asked for the 37th time while she continued to write down my exact words. 

"The same. How do you expect me to feel when my body is made of a complete deadly illness. Not to mention the death of possibly the only person who cares." i pointed out. She wrote that down then looked at me with sad eyes. 

"I care." She whispered, as if her false words would comfort me in any way possible. 

"No, you are paid to care. You're being paid to sit here and pretend you are actually interested in how I feel, or what I think. My thoughts are for my head only, if they were made for your understanding, whatever force put us on this planet to exist would have made us share a brain. But that force didn't, and now here I am, cancer induced and grieving at the loss of my only friend, my mom."

"Frank, I know what you're going through. I get it, it's tough, but you have to let someone inside your head so we can help you." She maintained her natural calm voice. 

"Oh really? You're being eaten alive by cancer, getting called a freak by people who don't even know you, trying to understand the fact that you will in fact never see nor hear your mother again, having to have your Aunt watch you die, have your only friend wonder why you look like you've been in hell, which in case you were wondering, is causing him to constantly ask about some 'big secret' I'm hiding from everyone, which is that I am dying. Please, you'll never understand no one does. Not even him." I referred to Gerard at the end. It's true, no one understands. 

Mrs.Meyer, my therapist, sighed and rubbed her forehead, writing words in the journal she always has, probably noting that I'm not making any improvement what so ever. 

"We're only here to help. Now I think we should up your depressants and maybe put you on some sleeping pills. You look extremely tired today, Frank." She concluded. 

"So, you're going to help by shoving one of my greatest fears down my throat, and drug me up so I don't look like a disaster to society?" I chuckled with no humor. These therapy sessions are just so bland and useless, I never talk about how I feel, and nothing changed and nothing will ever change. I refuse to change myself with pills. I'm Frank Iero, and that's all I ever want to be, until the day I cease to exist. 

I walked home from Therapy office. Watching as the sky turned slightly grey, covered in clouds that looked like they were either pissed off or sad like I am. Maybe a twist of both? But I think that would actually be a tornado. Whatever. 

 I walked in my house to see Gerard already inside, tears streaming down his face, clutching a paper tightly to his chest. 

"Hey, are you okay? How'd you get in here?" I asked, saddened to see him crying. 

"You can't fucking live alone Frank." He said through gritted teeth. 

"And why's that?" I questioned, generally confused as to what was going on. 

"FRANK YOU FUCKING HAVE CANCER, FUCKING CANCER! YOU NEED SOMEONE NEAR YOU 24/7, TO TAKE CARE OF YOU. WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD CANCER!!" He yelled through his sobs. 

I stared at Gerard, my eyes wide, my jaw hit the floor, metaphorically speaking. Another fear of mine seemed to have come true, but that doesn't mean I still don't fear it. Because oh god, I do. 

"H-how did you know." I whispered. 

"You have a Chemo sheet taped to your refrigerator. I can't believe you wouldn't tell me this, so I could help you." He broke out into more crying. 

"Have you ever thought that I didn't want you to know? That I wanted no one to know. If anyone knew, they'd treat me different, because in their eyes, I'm just a cancer filled, delicate, fragile, little boy. Has the thought of pity occurred to you? What about me wanting to take care of myself for once. No matter what anyone does to help me, in the end I will die. There is no hope for me, none at all. But you're the closest to a friend I have, you're my closest thing to hope." I said calmly, tears in my own eyes. 

"I would never treat you so fragile, asshole." Gerard said, smiling and chuckling. I mirrored his actions. He walked towards me and hugged me tightly. 

"I love you Frank." He whispered in my ear. 

"I love you too Gerard." I whispered back and squeezed his body slightly. It felt weird to say the 3 words to someone who wasn't my mother. But my mother died, and I'm left here with my thoughts and raging teenage hormones taking control of my mouth and actions. No one can stop them, only my mom could do that. 

 Gerard and I sat on my couch, I explained to him about my cancer. What it was like, what it felt like, the medications, the check-up's, all of the sort. 

"What did you mean when you said you were leaving?" Gerard asked, sipping on the hot chocolate I made him.

"Gerard, I have cancer, something that is slowly devouring my insides, eating me alive, leaving me soggy from the chemo, in hopes to one day get better. Everyone who knows, which isn't many, but most importantly the doctor's and my mom keep/kept telling me 'You're one step closer to remission' or something like 'You'll be better before you know, I'm so proud of you.' But even I know that I'm going to die. The cancer will complete its task at eating me, and I will be left as nothing but bones and a soul that used to be. Everyone one day will forget my existence. I'm dying Gerard." I said, not once letting my eyes look away from his. 

"You can't die. Not just yet, never. I just met you, you're my best friend and I love you so much." He started to sniffle. 

"I know, and I love you too." I said like it was an automatic response. 

"I don't want you to leave me. You're my best friend. Fuck, you're my only friend. I can't imagine being here without you. Frank I--"

I sighed and leaned forward, pressing my lips to Gerard's. He hands rested on my hips. It felt like this was a routine. Like this was just normal. But I don't know, having a best friend is the kind of routine I like. 

"Best friends forever." I whispered and smiled. 

Liking routines seem scary though. Telling someone I loved them besides my mom scared me. Someone being payed to care scares me. False hope scares me. Have I ever mentioned that the thought of death scares me? I believe I did, but just to make sure, I'll state it again. 

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1. I'm scared of the thought that people don't take time to realize what they have

2. I'm scared of the thought of swallowing a simple pill.

3. I'm scared of the thought of someone giving me pity

4. I'm scared of the thought that one day, someone will know exactly what I'm thinking.

5. I'm scared of the thought, that I don't know what to think. 

6.I'm scared of the thought of  people reading my mind off of how I act or look. (Just like Gerard)

7. I'm scared to be alone. 

8. I'm scared of the dizzy and noxious feeling I get. 

9. I'm scared of telling people personal things about myself. 

10. I'm scared of eating in front of people. They'll judge me. 

11. I'm scared of death.

12. I'm scared of Mrs.Rodgers.

13. I'm scared to tell Gerard about my condition. 

14. I'm scared about my mom not being here.

15. I'm scared at how much I'm opening up to Gerard.

 16. I'm scared of the day Gerard finds out about my condition.

17. I'm scared of the feeling and emotion Gerard holds in himself. 

18. I'm scared because I might not live to see one day.

19. I'm scared of the thought of liking a routine. 

20. I'm scared of telling someone I love them. If they aren't my mom, that is.

21. I'm scared of someone being payed to care. 

22. I'm scared of false hope. 

23. Yet again, I'M SCARED OF DEATH.