Video Games 🎮 FRERARD

↳ LEVEL 7.0

warnings: violence [not edited]

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GALLONS OF THE STUFF
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Frank stared up at the ceiling of his room.

The weak Fall sun peeked through the thin blinds by his window. His hands were clutched in his navy blue blanket that he had been cocooning himself with, and his face was smushed into his lumpy pillow.

He had been stuck in the same position, in a grey silent room with no color, for the entire weekend now. With the exception of leaving to eat lunch, which was now the only meal he let himself eat because it was the only time Anthony wouldn't be home and it would only be Frank. His Mother worked on the weekends and so did Rob, so he had the house to himself. It didn't make too much of a difference anyway, Frank didn't leave his room.

It wasn't even because Frank was grounded, or a goody-two-shoes. He was just so upset with everyone in that goddamn house, except Todo of course, that he didn't even want to be in the same room as any of them. Frank had no idea how he had gotten grounded in the first place- he couldn't believe his mother thought so low of him. It broke his heart.

Frank didn't have some sort of complex surrounding his mother, of course not, but she was the only actual parent that Frank had in his life at that moment. His father wasn't around and Rob was just ignorant, so Frank took most of his mother's actions quite personally. She had known Frank for seventeen years- and yet she took Anthony's side over his.

Anthony had only been around for four years, that was when his mother remarried and his father moved away. He never came to visit Frank, Hell, he barely called Frank. Not only that, but when he did find the time to do so, he only talked about his girlfriend Ella. He talked about how happy he was... how happy he was to be away from Frank and his mother. Sure, his father never said the actual words but Frank could read between the lines. His father had a new life now, and he didn't have the time to deal with Frank's dependency issues like he did when Frank was still a small kid.

Frank clung onto the memories of his father when he still lived at home, when they'd have movie nights and Frank would show his father what songs he was learning on guitar. Not to mention how his parents used to be. They always seemed so in love to Frank, and of course Frank knew kids who's parents had divorced but it always felt like that would never happen to Frank. He always felt so safe.

So safe in fact that when his father would help him practice karate and chess, he never doubted that the man wouldn't be there for him one day. His father didn't have a reason to leave, he seemed so happy.

Well, until Frank turned thirteen that was.

That was the year his father had gotten into a car accident... and had finally admitted to Frank's mother that he wasn't happy in the slightest. Frank never found out too much of the reasoning behind that since neither of his parents bothered to tell him, but supposedly Frank's old man wanted to leave, and he hadn't realized just how much he did until his brush with death.

Frank would be lying if he didn't say he took it personally. Because... he did.

Had he done something wrong? Maybe he just hadn't been a good enough son- or maybe he wasn't good enough at karate and chess to make his old man stick around.

Frank's eyes turned lazy as he glared around the room, trying to distract himself from thinking about his father too much.