Stranded (Frerard)

4 years later

I dont know how long Ive been on this god forsaken island, long enough that the tree I marked the days on is completely covered in dashes and I had to move to another tree. Ive given up all hope of being rescued, and all hope of my eyesight coming back, I guess sand got into my eyes one too many times. (Or like ten too many whatever same thing.)That didnt stop me from arranging boulders and fallen branches and things into what I believe is a pretty accurate SOS on the beach that I first washed up on. Over what I believe to be years Ive learned how to make a fire in the blink of an eye, what foods are out there and where they are, and I have made myself a home in a hole in the roots of a fairly large tree. Looking back at the life I had, I realize that the person I am today is a far cry from the boy I was, a boy whose father died, leaving him and his mother with nearly $2 billion, who was well educated, and had everything he could ever ask for. I didn't even need glasses before I lost my vision completely. My mother would be so ashamed, she'd probably call me a heathen, turn on her heal, then walk away, but Im proud of myself, no one would ever expect the tiny rich boy to survive, especially not this long.

Now in Gerards pov btw

"Hey Donald, did we check this island?" My mother asks, looking at a map, they've searched nearly every island in the south Pacific, looking for survivors of a recent plane crash, although I think they're still secretly searching for Pete, they really liked him, and Mikey's fallen into a depression.
"I don't think so, we goin' now?"
"I don't see why not. Gee, you wanna come?"
"I can?"
"You're old enough aren't you?" Im only seventeen but mom knows that  I want to find Pete, and being the cool, understanding person she is, she lets me tag along sometimes.
~*~*~
The island is a blow, I don't think there were even any plants that were living on it, let alone a person. No use searching here anymore so we begin to make our way back to the port.
"Hold on, Donna stop the boat."
"What is it?"
"Does that not look like an SOS?"
"Oh god, it does, pull over."
I follow their gazes and sure enough, along the beach there is an SOS made of boulders and other debris, although the first S was backwards.
We pull up to the shore, the sound of our engine echoes back from the palmy forest.
Once we've pulled up and docked the engines are cut and the sudden silence is deafening.
"Hel- hello?" A soft voice draws my eyes to the edge of the forest, where a short humanoid form greets me.
My mom is immediately off the boat and making her way towards them.
"Are you from the plane crash?" She asks.
"Plane? No, I was on a boat." He turns to his left, so he's facing her more directly. I jump over the side of the boat and trudge through the small rocks until Im close to the both of them. The boy, as I am now able to distinguish his gender, tilts his head slightly but doesn't look at me. He's alarmingly skinny and at least 3 inches shorter than me, he has on a long sleeved Tee-shirt that once showed a band I think, and it was practically made of holes. His hair cuts off at odd lengths, some hangs in his face past his chin, but most is tied in a haphazard knot in the back of his head. He's attractive. Woa Gee please try to hold in your gay thoughts.
"What's your name son?" My father asks as he approaches with an open notepad.
"Frank."
"We need your last name as well, honey." My mother states gently.
"Hold on, it's been a while since Ive needed it. Iero, it's Iero." He speaks as though he might rupture his eardrums if he speaks too loudly.
"What ship were you on?"
"I think it was called 'The Minnow'."
My mother gasps and turns to my father, he looks at her like he doesn't understand, which he probably doesn't.
"What?" I was correct.
"Oh my god Donald, how- That's the ship Mikey and Pete were on!"
Jesus dad, even I knew that.
Franks head snaps up at the last statement. "Are they okay? I- They were-" He gives up trying to finish his thought. He uses a lot of hand gestures but his eyes never come in contact with mine, they're turned downward and only half-open.
My mother and father, however, look at each other before my mother speaks, "We've found Mikey," Frank smiles a little, "But Pete has been harder, and is still out there." His smile disappears. "But may we ask, how did you know them?"
"My mother and I, we fought, we had money, have money, I don't know, but there was a lot of it, and she was trying to set me up with this girl, she wanted an heir to inherit it after me. I know, Im young, but she wanted everything to be planned, and opportunities don't wait or something like that. Well, I don't exactly -um- like girls, you know? And even if I did -do- I told her that I didn't want to marry someone I didn't want to. That escalated into some fight right before we got on the boat so I spent the boat ride talking to some really nice strangers before- you know." He waves his hands wildly to indicate the crash."They didn't deserve this, they were really sweet, and how many people would talk to some random spoiled kid with mommy issues on their fucking honeymoon?"
At this point I realized he had started to cry, softly and without wiping the tears away, and my mom looked at my dad, "We raised him right."
"Which one?" The boy asks.
"Mikey."
Frank smiles a little, a shy, barely noticeable smile, "Yes, you did."
My dad clears his throat loudly, "If it's alright with you chatty Cathys Id like to get back to questioning him."
My mother steps back a little and Frank nods.
"How old are you?"
"What year is it?"
"2015."
"What month?"
"September."
"Next month on the 31st Ill be 17."
"How long were you here?"
"I cant tell you exactly, but Ive made a mark every day I was here on those 2 trees." He grabs a tree, feels the stump a bit, makes a small nod, then points in another direction towards 2 thick palm trees with cuts covering the bases of them, in no particular pattern or order, and they stop just above my head.
"I used to count them, before-" he cuts off abruptly.
"Frank, what happened?" My mother asks, pouring sugar into her tone.
"I must've gotten sand in my eyes or something, I dont know what happened, but I woke up one morning, 126 days into my stay here, and everything was black. Im blind. I cant count the notches 'cause I cant see them." Tears had begun to make their way down his cheeks again, and my mother pulled him into a hug.
"Should we go home?" She asks him. He begins to nod, but stops sharply almost immediately, "We have to bring Bob as well."
"Bob Bryar?"
"Yes, he was the captain." He was the first mate but I didn't have the heart to correct him.
"Where is he?"
"Follow me." He pulls away from my mom and lays his hand on the tree again, turns away from us and begins to walk, his hand brushing against every tree on the edge of the forest. He stops and feels one tree a little longer than the others, then turns into the forest. Even without being able to see he makes his way through the forest more nimbly and quietly than we do, practice does make perfect I guess. We stop at an outstandingly large tree, and Frank slides under the roots, only to come right back out with an off-white shirt that was ripped in too many places to count.
"It's Bobs." I guess that makes sense.
He scampers back through the forest, but on a different trail, his hand running along the trees once again, we follow. The trail opens back to the same beach, but closer to the SOS. He walks away from the SOS in the opposite direction of where we were earlier, he pauses and feels the stump of the tree he's stopped at, then turns to the beach, nudging a line of sticks with his toe every now and then, presumably to make sure he is going in the correct direction. The sand has an indented trail from repetitive use Id guess. He runs into a large piece of driftwood then bends down and feels it, running one hand along the side, before standing and facing us once more.
"This is Bob."
"Honey, theres no one here." My mother speaks softly as if she's afraid he'l break.
"Trust me, he's here. I buried him myself."
Oh.
"So he's dead then?" My fathers insensitivity to death shines through.
Frank nods in response.
"Im sorry honey, when did he, umm, pass?"
"He was dead before he washed up on the shore, and and based on the year, that was 4 years ago."
"Is it okay if we leave and send someone back to get him?"
"Yea, I just thought you should know he was here."
"Do you have everything you need?" My mother asks as she begins to walk toward the boat with my father.
"Yes, but could I hold someones hand? I don't know where Im going." He tilts his head down and shrugs.
"Yea, Ive got you."
He holds his hand out in my direction and I grab his hand, loosening my grip quite a bit when he flinches, but he recovers quickly and his grip tightens almost to the point of it being painful.
"You ready?" I wait for his nod of approval before starting to walk.
I look back to see him and am greeted with a smile, I didn't realize how nice his teeth were.
"What you bein' all smiley 'bout?" I ask.
His smile grows a little,
"I didn't think Id ever be rescued."