Wake me up at 4:20/ Frerard

Challenge 6

A/N: Haven't wrote on this story in a while because writer's block and I feel like it's shit but some people like it IG

Frank woke up in the morning, his arm felt like it was on fire still but besides that he had actually slept fine. Who knew that a little bit of self-harming and PTSD gave you a good night's sleep? He sat up, checking his stupid phone and sighing. He was pissed still at them, a years worth of effort and pain to just relapse because Frank didn't know not to accept deadly suicide challenges from strangers. Maybe he should've listened as a kid to not talk to strangers.

His eyes shifted to his arms, the mess that they were. Deeper down he knew he wanted to cut, if he hadn't wanted to he would've toned it down as he was forced to slash his arms. Maybe only do a few cuts per arm, but instead he made them hideous. He wondered if Mikey would notice. Oh shit. Mikey. What would his reaction be? Would he be disappointed in him? Mad? Would he do the same to himself? Frank paled, he didn't want anyone else besides himself getting hurt.

He hadn't received a text yet from the BWC, which he found a little strange because usually they texted him early in the morning; unless his challenge would have to be held later in the day, he thought. He put away his phone. Changing out of the clothes he wore yesterday into just a pair of grey sweat pants and a t shirt.

He went to bathroom, digging into the medicine cabinet for bandages and gauze. Once finding them, he cleaned his wounds accordingly. It hurt like hell but it was either this or get them infected and probably lose an arm. He wrapped his arm with one of those binding bandages and used the metal clip to make sure it didn't unravel.

His phone buzzed.

He only glanced at it, a moment of confusion showed on his face before he read who sent the text.

Mikey- hey, I'm sorry about yesterday. I feel so retarded....you should've just ignored me. I feel a lot better now, so you don't have to worry about me again.

I hope that things can just go back to how they were before my little melt down?

Frank was about to type out a reply, when he received another text but this time from someone else popped up on his notification bar.

BWC- Your challenge for the day is to have a physical fight with someone.

Frank groaned, trying to send the BWC a short 'fuck you, bitch' in reply, but he had forgotten he was still on Mikey's text page and accidentally sent it to him and didn't notice. He closed his phone and put the medical supplies on his bedside table. He had school today, which meant he could talk to Mikey about what happened and also he could find someone to fight.

He got dressed and threw on his hoodie because it was getting colder and colder every day. He slung his backpack on and stuffed his hoodie pockets with his hands before walking out the door. He lived close to the school so he didn't bother taking his bike, he also didn't want to get it stolen. The streets of New Jersey were too packed to drive on in the morning rush, since most people lived in Jersey and drove to their office job in New York.

Once arriving at school, he didn't spot Mikey where he normally was; but Bert, Gerard, Bob and Ray were. Gerard looked distant, his skin was paler and his bright red hair had been exchange for medium length pitch black with blue highlights. He stood away from Bert, who was too busy talking to the other two to notice.

When Gerard looked up, catching Frank's gaze his look of emptiness turned into a mixture of 'Please help me' and 'Why?'. Frank tried walking over to him but as he did, he could sense Gerard was getting madder every step he took.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked him, standing in front of him.

"I don't know, what's wrong with you?" He asked, crossing his arms.