Beer Bottles And Cigarettes

Chapter Eight

A/N: Just a note, Frank can eat normally in this story

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After getting back to Gerard’s house, Gerard heads off to have a shower leaving me some time to play my guitar alone. I sit on the edge of Gerard’s couch and strum at the guitar, smiling at the sound that fills the room. As I’m playing, my phone rings. I pick it up and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”

   “Frank?” My father’s voice rings out.

   “Dad?” I question, furrowing my brow and shifting on the couch so I’m sitting back.

“Where the fuck are you? You don’t just run out of my house with no explanation, then don’t come home for two days!” He yells into the phone. The anger in his voice is real and it makes the hair on my back of my neck prickle. Goosebumps rise on my arms and I dig my heels into the floor, hoping I can just slip through the cracks and disappear forever.

   I swallow. “I’m not coming home, Dad. You broke the one thing that kept me happy. And don’t even try to say it was an accident because I know how much you hate the fact that I play guitar instead of drums. I don’t want to hear excuses or apologies. I want you to accept the fact that guitar is what I love and what I aim to play when I’m older. If you can’t deal with that, don’t expect to see me any time soon.” I say, my fingers digging into the arm of the couch as I say this.

    There’s a long, silent pause before he speaks. “You get your ass home now or I swear to god, I’ll hunt your ass down and drag you back by your ears.” He growls into the phone.

     These words make tears flow from my eyes. “Screw you!” I scream into the phone.

     The door to the bathroom opens and Gerard exits, towel wrapped around his hips and red hair hanging messily in his face. His eyes land on me and he clenches his jaw. “Who is it?” He mouths to me, getting closer and sitting next to me.

     “My dad.” I mouth back.

     He snatches the phone from my hands and clears his throat, standing and pacing the living room, the towel riding dangerously low on his hips. “Is this Frank’s father? Good, because I want you to listen really closely. Frank is a talented boy and he’s amazing at playing guitar. I had the pleasure of hearing him play. So don’t you dare take away what he loves to do. If you really loved your son, you would let him pursue guitar. You would let him live his life the way he wants. Frank is one of my favourite students and I won’t let you ruin his dreams.”

     There’s a brief pause and then Gerard growls deep in his throat. “This is Frank’s art teacher. Frank came running to me two nights ago, crying and upset that his father smashed his guitar. I decided it would be best for him to stay away from home so he has been staying in my apartment with my girlfriend and I.” The girlfriend part is a lie but I guess it makes things safer.

       “I understand that sir but Frank has the choice of whether or not he wants to live at home so I suggest you let him choose. Thank you for your time.” Gerard hangs up and hands me the phone. “Fixed it.”

        I stare at him. “What did you just do?”

      He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “I dealt with it. I’ll be back.” He walks into his bedroom and comes back with pajama pants on. His shirtless and his chest is still wet.

      I close my eyes and wipe the tears. Despite the fact that I’m unbelievably upset, I still find time to get horny over my art teacher. That’s just great. Now I’m horny, upset, and I really want a milkshake. I clear my throat. “Um...Gerard?” I say, his name foreign on my tongue.