Devil's Work (Frerard / Priest!Gerard)

Three

Three

One Week Later.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you want me to send over after you get there?" my mom asked me for the tenth time, her voice becoming more annoying with each word to pass through her lips. "It's no trouble-"

"I don't need your pity packages" I snapped, moving past her towards the door with my suitcase in tow "the only good thing i get out of this is not having to see you guys." Maybe i was being a little harsh, but i wanted them to feel hurt. I wanted them to know that i hated what they were doing and that consequently i hated them too.

"Frank Iero don't you dare speak to us that way" my dad growled from where he was standing in the doorway, my passport in his hand.

This was the day. The day they stuck me on a plane and got rid of me. My last week in Belleville had been filled with going through my stuff, finding what i'd need and what could stay. I'd only seen Pete twice, both times he had been apologetic about the whole thing. I managed to divert him off topic by mentioning Patrick though, that normally got him to lighten up. All the same, he was gutted to see me go, as was I.

"I'll talk to you however i please, i don't owe you anything" I ignored his outstretched hand and pulled my own suitcase down the drive, towards the car. I didn't look back at the house - instead i just shoved it in the back and climbed inside. I had about an hour left in my parents presence to annoy the hell out of them before i was gone.

"I know you're angry, but this will be good for you" my mom tried to start a conversation as we pulled out of the driveway and started along the road "Your aunt Isabel's doing us a massive favour here - she's even got you into the local sixth form college."

"Great" i muttered with sarcasm under my breath, before speaking more loudly "She hates me anyway. They all do. Even Ray."

"They don't hate you - they're taking you in for gods sakes!" I bit my tongue so i didn't tell her that they'd probably consider that cussing. They were stricter than strict, especially when it came to the church. I bet they'd be forcing me to go every sunday, so i could kiss my lie-in's goodbye.

I didn't have a problem with church. What i did have problem with is when people tried to shove their religion down your throat and then expect you to just go along with it like you've been brainwashed or something.

"Please don't leave without even speaking to me" my mom's voice pulled me out of my thoughts "i know why you're doing this but i don't want to end on bad terms. We love you, that's why we're doing this. We want you to have a fresh chance, an opportunity to start again where nobody knows you."

"Don't make me speak to you right now because if i do i'll end up speaking my mind, and trust me you won't like what i'm thinking right now" i snapped back before turning to glare outside the window. My parents exchanged a look before the car turned silent.

Both of them tried to make conversation with me at different points on the way to the airport, but i was having none of it. I just blanked them out, and in the end i shoved my headphones in just so the message was crystal clear.

Eventually they gave up, like they always did when it came to me.

That day i reached a number of conclusions:

1. Trying to get away from your parents before they can hug you is hard. In fact, getting away from your parents full stop is hard, especially when they're insistent to make doubly sure you get on your plane and don't fuck off somewhere else or try to escape back home. Not that i had anywhere to go anyway.