from my head to my middle finger

12 getting better

'So, Frank –' his therapist, Dr. Perez asked. 'How are you feeling?'

He did his best to fake a smile, but it was getting harder and harder. Also, nothing against Dr. Perez, but he hated psychiatrists and any kind of therapist. He just thought they were fake, and their job was to keep people medicated and numb, not help them. He knew that no matter how many times he talked to her, or anyone, he'd still feel like shit and on the verge of running away to get shitfaced. 'I don't know,' he said, trying to be honest.

'You don't know?'

'Yeah – I don't know. Like I should be happy because I just got the cutest dog in the planet, and I'm sober, and I have a great boyfriend for once, but I still feel numb most of the time, and like I need to be drunk to feel something.' He didn't know why he was telling her all this, but he just needed to let it out. He couldn't talk to Gerard about this kind of stuff without worrying him. 'I just – there are so many things in my head and I can't –' He hated not knowing how to recognize his own feelings. Sometimes it was all too much, he'd start crying out of nowhere. Sometimes, even if it got so bad, he couldn't feel anything. He just wanted to understand.

At that very moment, he felt like he couldn't breathe and everything was going fast around him, and his head was about to explode. He was having an anxiety attack.

He hadn't had one of those since high school, before he started drinking and using heavy drugs. They helped him for so long. But not anymore.

He had forgotten how bad they got.

Dr. Perez helped him through it, telling him to take deep breaths. 'Breathe in, breathe out,' she said. When he started to calm down, she said. 'Frank, I need you to look around and tell me five things you see.'

Frank nodded. 'Pen... bookcase...' He paused. 'Folder... tissues... door.'

'Good.'

It had helped him, but he would never admit that.

'Let's talk about something else,' Dr. Perez said. 'What do you want to talk about?'

He shrugged.

'What about your dog? What's his name?'

That brought a smile to his face. 'It's a girl. Her name's Pansy, and she's a black lab.'

'I love her name.'

'Yeah – my boyfriend got her for me, to help me.'

'He seems a nice boyfriend. What's his name?'

'Gerard. He's the best. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve him.'

'Why would you say that? If he's trying to help you, and he got you a dog, I'm sure he cares about you a lot.'

'He does, but the way we met, and how it started. I hurt him, and I hurt the guy I was with back then, and I didn't stop until I ruined everything.' Dr. Perez didn't say anything and just waited for him to continue. He told him everything. How they met, cheating on Bob with him, and Bob leaving him and then coming back when Frank relapsed. Him almost attempting to kill himself, and Gerard saving him. 'He keeps saving me, and I don't know if I deserve it,' he said, tears rolling down his eyes.

'You deserve to be saved, and that shows he cares about you.'

Frank couldn't say anything more because he was crying, so he nodded.

'Thanks for trusting me and telling me this,' she said. 'This will take time, so don't push yourself. You're doing great. I suggest you start journaling to keep track of your mood, and how you're feeling. You told me you write poetry, right?'

Frank nodded. 'And songs.'

'Well, you can use that too.'

Frank nodded, and then he was out of there as soon as the session was over. As usual, Gerard was waiting for him outside. 'How did it go?' he asked Frank.

He just nodded, and they went home.

***

Frank was starting to get used to his routine, which was good. Finding his way around without the need of alcohol. Getting used to a more normal lifestyle.

Waking up to Gerard by his side, sometimes still asleep. He could get used to the sight of Gerard's pale skin and his snores. It was the best view ever, and he was lucky enough to be the only one to see it.

While Gerard cooked dinner – he was better at it – Frank would take Pansy out to go potty. They would have breakfast together, before Gerard had to go to work. Frank was still looking for a job that didn't involve alcohol or an unhealthy environment that could lead him to relapse again, so he'd stay home with Pansy, and spend the whole morning writing, or playing guitar to her.

He'd order takeout for dinner, and when Gerard came home, they'd eat it watching a movie, and make out after.

He realized when Gerard wasn't around his mood changed, and life had no meaning unless he was around. Dr. Perez had told him he had an addictive personality. He was not only addicted to drugs, but sex, people. He knew it. He noticed the patterns, with Bob, now with Gerard. He felt incomplete without him, without being intoxicated. He didn't know who he was anymore.

What would happen if Gerard had to leave? If for some reason they had to be apart? He didn't know what to do. But he knew he wouldn't survive without him.

'What are you thinking about, babe?' Gerard asked him, seeing how distraught he looked.

'Nothing, I –' But Gerard knew him better, and a simple look was all he needed to let the tears flood. 'I don't know who I am anymore. I've been trying to figure out, but without all the shit inside me, I'm just empty.'

'Don't say that. You're the most caring person I know. You help everyone even if you hate them. You love music more than anything, except dogs.'

'And you.'

'And me.' Gerard smiled at that. 'You are so adorable. And I'm glad you got sober because that's a different side of you I discovered. You feel everything so much, and you're so talented and smart. But sometimes I'm worried all those feelings are more damaging to you than anything, and that's what got you where you are.'

Frank doesn't say anything, he just looks at his boyfriend, frowning.

'I think maybe you need to talk more about what you're feeling, so I can help you with the weight. Okay?'

'Okay.'

'But it's normal you feel like that,' Gerard continued. 'You're a different person now. Maybe you can reinvent yourself.'

'But how?'

'I don't know we'll figure it out.'

There was a long silence, as they cuddled closer together, Gerard comforting Frank. 'I need a job.'

'Have you called your ex boss? Didn't he tell you he'd get you an office position?'

'Yeah. But I rather start from scratch. Reinvent myself.' He liked the idea after all.

The next morning, he walked around the neighborhood, filling out applications in different restaurants and stores. He'd take a dishwasher position if it was available. But no one seemed interested.

He then got to the local bookstore, where a sign hung on the window. HELP WANTED. He walked in, and talked to the man behind the counter. Mr. Kyle told him he was too old and needed a time off, so the job was his and he could start the next day.

He was now Frank Iero, cashier in a vintage bookstore in NYC, with the cutest dog and the best boyfriend, and he was actually happy.