Hardest Part (Frerard)

Dads and daggers (Ch 22)

Dads and daggers-Chapter 22 (Frank's POV)

"Hello?"

"Frank? My son? Oh my god how I've missed you!"

I was shocked, my father? But he was in jail. He couldn't be calling me.

I turned to Gerard, before getting up, there was no way I was worrying him with this.

I cringed as the cool breeze hit my face, cautiously shuffling my way throughout the collage, I safely exited the premises, snuggling up against a shady tree.

"This is impossible," I sniffled, "you are supposed to be rotting away in jail you piece of shit!" My tone had even surprised myself, I hadn't talked to my father for years, and quite frankly it hadn't been long enough.

I heard my dad chuckle from the other line, sending waves of nausea shooting through my body.

"Oh, my naive little Frankie," he coped, "you seriously thought you could be safe from me forever? You are mine, always have been, and always will be. I will always find a way back to you Frank."

My breath hitched in my throat.

"Now why don't we meet up? Somewhere private?"

I shook my head, thankful that he couldn't see the mess of a person I had become, "No, never." I choked.

He let a surprised sound slip out of his mouth, disapproving of my lack of willingness. "Guess you would prefer I stop by your boyfriend Gerard's dorm then?" He growled.

I froze, a few tears streaming down my face. He knew about Gerard? Had he not taken enough from me? My childhood, my virginity, my mother, now the only good thing in my life. I couldn't bare the thought of loosing him. I had never cared about anyone quite as much as him, I wouldn't allow my past to ruin him.

"Wh-where do I meet you..." I wheezed, hands shaking by my side.

------

I opened the dorm room, noticing the tears spilling onto the cool floor.

I can't let him hurt you, Gee.

I walked past the room, shock filling my eyes.

Gerard and Bert. Bert on Gerard. Gerard kissing Bert.

I dropped my phone, no longer wanting to tell Gerard where I would be going. I knew I wasn't good enough. He wanted more, more that I was too much of a child to give him. He wanted intimacy, romance, physical contact.

I ran, eyes blurry, a clear destination in mind. I ran until my legs gave out, leaving me in a sobbing pile, crumbling against the green boulevard.

I looked up, eyes darting across the small house that stood in front of me. A shadowy figure made its way from the deck, kneeling down beside me.

"Hello, Frank." He spat, "as weak and pathetic as ever I see?" And with that he dragged my emotionless shell up the front steps.

He violently shoved me across the floor, slamming my head onto the wall in which he had killed my mom in front of all those years ago. Memories tore through my brain as he stood me on my feet.

"It should have been you, not her, it's your fault, you worthless faggot."

I cried, sinking my exhausted body into the nearest corner of the gloomy room, "I know," I admitted.

He grabbed my arms, curiosity bouncing through his eyes as I winced.

"What happened to your arms?" He cackled violently pulling up my sleeves. A look of surprise, and entertainment washed over his face as he eyed the hundreds of pink and white scars.