frerard one shots | ✔️

day 28 ~ falling in love

a sequel to the last chapter

The morning after was painful. It was always painful to come to my senses and realise that the momentary happiness I felt was always a dream, my memories playing on repeat in my head, trying and failing miserably to make me happier.

I turned my alarm off and hauled myself out of bed. It was harder to do now that my darling Frankie wasn't around, but I did it anyways. I wasn't going to let myself physically rot out in the comfort of my own home. Just mentally.

I had been allowed to take a week off when the love of my life had died, but then I went back to work—a changed man. People were always as sweet as ever, but now I was so fucking scared of caring. I distanced myself unhealthily from everyone, making sure that I didn't attach myself to anyone because if I loved again, I would lose again miserably.

I know that now.

I know I shouldn't think that way. That it's unhealthy to do so, but I also know better than to let myself be hurt again. To be honest, if Frank could see what I was doing to myself, he would be more than disappointed.

"Go see our friends. Feel loved again. Be around people that make you feel better," he would say. He always wanted me to feel happy, to recover from whatever affected me. But in a sick and twisted way, I don't think I ever wanted to recover.

I'd feel guilty if I felt happy after losing the love of my life. My anchor. My best friend.

"Find joy in other things," he would say. But I didn't have the heart to. I didn't have any motivation or any energy. I was well and truly depressed. I'd started hating my body yet again, and I wasn't eating or sleeping well, which made me gain weight unhealthily and lose it even more unhealthily.

Mikey noticed. He always noticed things like this.

I put on water for coffee and then turned on the shower. I'd only be in there for a few minutes. When I was out, my waiter had boiled, and I poured all the shit I needed into the french press. I then dried off my hair and body better and got dressed into my work clothes.

By then my black, sugarless coffee was done steeping, and I pressed the handle of the french press down. I poured it into a thermos and grabbed my bag, walking out the door and locking it behind me. I forced myself into the elevator and down to the parking garage.

I also forced myself to drive to work and to get through the day and to drive back to our—my flat and to eat something small because as much as I wanted to die, I knew I'd only cause Mikey and my friends pain if I didn't stay alive.

I knew how terrible that pain was. I'd never even wish it upon my worst enemy.

I jumped as I felt my telephone buzz against the pocket on my arse and pulled out my phone to see that Mikey was calling me.

I answered like a good brother does.

"Hey, Mikey, what's up?"

"Hey, Gee, some of our friends were gonna get some movies from Redbox and order some pizza and junk food and spend some time together just like how we used to. I know you don't want to, but if not for them or me, could you please do this for yourself? You know you don't have to feel guilty for feeling happy, even if it isn't permanent."

"Actually," I considered, thinking about how Frankie would be happy if I said yes; how he would want me to have fun with our friends; how he'd want me to feel good once in a while. How he might even want me to move on like Mikey said I should eventually do.

Eventually, I would. But not now. Two months wasn't long. The wound was still fresh and festering from where it had torn. Maybe, though, just maybe, my friends could act as antiseptic for tonight.