Frank screws his eyes closed and pulls the comforter tighter around his head. Another night of yelling and doors slamming, and he really thinks he's about to lose it. He knows his parents' marriage is over, he just wishes they would realise it and just divorce already -- it'd be easier for everyone. Sometimes Frank thinks he's more mature than his mother and father, really -- when he's pissed off he doesn't slam doors or yell his head off in empty rooms. No, he'll go to his bedroom and put his headphones on, or play a violent video game until he's calmed down.
Parents can't do that it seems.
There's a loud bang next door and the yelling gets a little louder, letting Frank know the argument has moved to the bedroom. It's a little obvious that Frank won't be getting any sleep tonight, or at least for a few hours anyway.
"Inconsiderate assholes," Frank murmers to himself, and he slips out of bed.
He rubs his eyes and stumbles towards his bedroom window. Pushing the curtains aside, Frank peers out and into the neighbour's garden. There's a large tree at the end of the garden with a little sturdy treehouse. It's been there ever since Frank can remember, and when he was younger he and Mikey from next door would play pirates and soldiers, throwing themselves from the little landing (this all stopped when Mikey broke his arm though - Mrs. Way always made sure they used the ladder after that). Mikey is awesome, Frank thinks -- they've been friends since they were born, practically, and it always makes Frank sad when he spends weekends at his grandma's (like this weekend, for example).
Despite Mikey being away from home, Frank notices a light coming from the tree house. He frowns and cocks his head, but he can't see anyone. There's a loud crash from his parents bedroom that sounds suspiciously like a vase, and Frank decides he's not dealing with this, not tonight.
As quietly as he can, Frank makes his way out of his room and down the stairs. He tiptoes as silently as possibly, hissing at himself when he almost knocks over a mug on the kitchen counter when he's reaching for the keys to the backdoor.
By the time Frank reaches the loose plank near the end of his own garden, he can hear a light humming. At this point Frank knows it's Gerard, Mikey's older brother. He smiles to himself -- the Iron Maiden tune gives it away.
Frank moves the plank a little and pushes himself through into the Way's backyard. Frank doesn't pause at all and starts climbing the rickety wooden ladder, even though the humming's stopped.
"That you Frankie?" A quiet voice asks.
"Yeah," Frank says, and as soon as he pops his head through the hole in the floor of the tree house, he can't help the giddy feeling that dances around his stomach when the older dark haired boy smiles a lopsided grin at him.
Gerard leans over and wraps one hand around Frank's wrist and starts to pull him up, despite the fact that he knows Frank has no problem climbing in and out of the tree house. Frank lets himself be pulled, and the next minute he's sitting cross legged on the floor beside Gerard Way.
Frank thinks Gerard is awesome. Maybe even more awesome than Mikey (though Frank will never tell Mikey this, because then he'll sulk for weeks - that kid can hold a grudge). Gerard is fifteen, three years older than Frank, but he's so much cooler than any of the other teenagers in the neighbourhood (in Frank's opinion anyway). He has dyed black hair and wears black nail polish and eyeliner. He wears t-shirts of metal bands that Frank's never even heard of, and he's always covered in paint, ink and clay stains. He's an artist, which Frank thinks is cool as shit. He also doesn't treat Frank like he's a kid, which everyone else seems to do. He might only be twelve, but he's not a child.
"Parents fighting again?" Gerard asks, and Frank sighs, his gaze resting on the pink candle Gerard has lit in the corner of the tree house. "Sorry, dude."
