We're Chasing The Sun (Frerard)

Chapter 19

(A/N: Omg, this stupid thing I'm writing just hit 1k reads!!! ty xx)

His cell phone buzzed right at the moment he was about to step inside the police station. He'd gotten there at a venture; he didn't know who else to turn to.

Ray had texted him back, asking where he'd gone, but Gerard chose not to reply. 

Rigid, his body muscles were uncooperative when he decided to step inside the building, expressing their own complaints, which Gerard really didn't have time for. His mouth felt dry as a desert when he finally went inside.

Busy people in suits ran past him, talking, some laughing, but no one paying the slightest of their attention to him. Mild shivers and his accelerated heartbeat held him back from running up to the front desk, enraged. 

For a moment, everything he could think of doing seemed worthless. Frank wasn't around, but then again, Frank wasn't going to ever be around again if Gerard just stood there forever, limp. 

His chest rose and fell steadily. He walked over to the front desk; the face behind was easily recognizable. Relief loosened his stiff muscles.

"G'day, Way," Officer Thomas smirked and took his hat off, raising an eyebrow at the student's unexpected arrival at this time of day. "Can I do something for you, son?" 

Suddenly, Gerard seemed unable to let words come out of his mouth again. He remained stock-still with his mouth agape. But it was utterly unfair; he'd come so far, nothing was going to stop him. He had to report this, even if he hadn't gotten Frank's consent.

"I want to report something." 

His resoluteness spoke for him, made his chest deluge with faith. Well, sort of. He still felt his surroundings spin slightly, still reminiscent of his encounter with the principal. Still abhorring himself, because he hadn't grabbed Frank and ran off when he had the chance to.

"Well, you just lemme get a pen and I'll be right back." The man disappeared through a door, and Gerard stood there frozen, impeded from doing anything else. A while later, the man trod out of the room with a pen and a notepad in his hands. 

Gerard couldn't recall his thinking being that muddled ever before. It was as if someone had slapped him with a fish and he didn't know what to do. Yell or tiptoe out of the situation. Officer Thomas seemed to notice the lack of emotion on his face; Gerard had simply blacked out. 

"I hear ya, my boy. Tell me what's wrong," he prompted, his lips reaching an approximation of a smile.

Gerard's downcast eyes flicked up to look at the man. "I—" he began, still hesitant, then added in one quick breath, "my friend is being abused by his parent."

The elder man put his pad down slowly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the teenager. "Gerard, wasn't it? I want ya to think, Gerard, if this is a fact or just an assumption. Child maltreatment's a serious crime, and if you don't have any corroborative ev—"

"I'm absolutely certain, sir." Gerard tried to look less wistful and more stern. Officer Thomas cleared his throat and picked up his pad again, starting to scribe down a few things for himself.

"Very well, then," he gave in and sighed. "Tell me more. Name of the person, age, address—everythin' you know is useful. And remember, you're a hero for doin' this right now, Gerard. You're doin' good. Let's start with the name of this friend of yours."

Gerard uttered out directly, "Frank Iero."

The man's eyes immediately grew wide and met Gerard's. Absently, he tossed his pad and pen over the table and opened a door behind him, his eyes still fixed on Gerard. He gestured; inviting the teenager in the room.