Frank knew it was stupid, but he did it anyway. It was how he coped. He wondered if Gerard ever even read them, if he tried to figure out who this 'F. A. I.' person was. Every month, Gerard would get a love letter. No return address, no trace of Frank's name except for his initials at the end. Gerard never sent any back. He couldn't, anyway, he had no idea who was sending them. Frank briefly thought of how this all started, the accident...
It had been a normal day, and he and Gee had been heading to a concert when they got mugged. In the struggle, Gerard's head was bashed by one of the attackers. When the people mugging them realized they had virtually nothing on them, they beat Frank up further and then left him and Gee on the ground. Eventually, some stranger found them and called an ambulance. Frank was fine, but the blow to Gerard's head had caused serious damage. He didn't remember Frank, and his mother barred Frank from his room. She blamed Frank for practically everything - for Gerard's being gay, for Gerard's slipping grades, for her deteriorating relationship with her son, and for Gerard's head injury. Of course, none of this was Frank's fault, but she didn't care. She just hated him. And this was why Frank wrote the love letters. Because Gerard was at a different school now, and didn't remember him at all. They were how Frank coped... they were the only way he could still express his love for Gee. He felt his eyes welling with tears, and tried to stop thinking. Don't think... just don't think...
