Frerard One Shots

Tragic With a Capital T

"Frank, please!" I say banging on his door. I know he's home, he's always home on Thursdays. "I need to talk to you, open the door and let me in." It's been a week since I've talked to him. He hasn't made any effort to contact me so after two days, I decided it was only right of me to reach out first. My texts went unanswered so eventually, I called him It rang and rang but went to voicemail. Now it doesn't even ring when I call him. I've tried talking to him to apologize but he's ignoring me and it's slowly turning me insane. I don't know what to do with myself without him and I feel terrible to have made him upset with me. After everything, we've been through, hell and back, what breaks him is not him leaving to attend Catholic school, his parent's divorce, and getting bullied in school.

When Frank was 10, his mother insisted they make Frank leave public school and go to private school. He was devastated and begged to stay with me. We had the same class together and rode the bus together since we lived on the same street. But his mother insisted and Frank was gone. We still worked out to be friends and see each other. Frank got depressed though at his new school. His mother believed this was for the greater good but his dad had a problem. That's when they started arguing.

Frank's parents had a rough divorce when he was 14. He was their only kid so there were countless battles of his parents demanding they get full custody. Then they thought it wise to make Frank choose between them and he couldn't do that. I remember that night he rang knocked on the door at 2 am. My parents were asleep and so was my brother. My however was lurking in the dark of my room on my phone when I heard him knocking. I opened it to find Frank soaking wet and softly crying.
"Frank? Oh my god, what's happened?" I ask and pull him in. As soon as he enters the threshold of my house, he throws his arms around me sobbing. I hold him close to me while closing the door. "It's okay, you're okay, I've got you," I tell him. I take off his dripping jacket and sopping shoes then take him by the hand upstairs to my room. "Here, you can wear some of my old jeans, the only pair that fits you." I rummaged through my closet and find the pair as well as grab a Misfits shirt and a long sleeve for him to wear. Frank always found comfort in wearing multiple long sleeves, it was a security factor. I sit on the bed while he changes out of his wet clothes. When he's done, he curls up on my lap and softly sniffles still. "If you want to talk, I'm here to listen but it you don't want to talk, I'm still here for you."
Frank nods. "My parents, they were just fighting and yelling. I hate it so much. They asked me to pick between them when they got their separate places. I couldn't and it just got worse. I love them both so much, I don't want to pick. If I pick my mom, she's going to make me move far away and I'll never see my dad again, or you and the others. But if I stay with my dad, I can go back to school with you guys and it'll be great. Except I'll never see my mom again and she'll be alone." Frank's father never cheated but they are now legally no longer married, they just haven't sorted out the arrangements for their son. His dad's been seeing another woman who has two kids for a few months but his mom doesn't have anyone. I just listen to him and comfort him to the best I can. He fell asleep in my arms and I couldn't find the strength to leave his side so I just stayed put holding him in my arms while we slept.
The judge declared his mother financially unable to provide care for a child so his dad kept him. Frank felt terrible to leave his mom alone but that's they way it turned out. He came back to us when we started high school but his depression didn't fade away. And it only got worse when he was bullied.
Frank was the guy always shoved into lockers, getting booked downed the stairs, and bombarded with food in the cafeteria. It was only getting worse and I tried to help him. My senior year, that was the first time I was ridiculed for sticking up for "my boyfriend". The running joke with Frank and I started when I was 16 but hearing assholes who hurt my friend rub it in my face like that stung badly. I hated it and I never wanted it again.
We graduated and still kept in touch and still kept the joke alive. Even though those people were gone, I still feared I would be hated for "dating a guy". I tried not to let it bother me but this memory is what kept alive my fear of loving him. I look back at it and realize how stupid I was for hurting him.
You can't fake love with someone. Maybe you have a relationship, a brief one where the first few weeks were magical and then suddenly they weren't anymore. It's not that it was fake the whole time. The feelings at first was real but it faded away. You can't fake those emotions. It's near to impossible to be in a relationship with someone you have no desire to be around.
Every time I saw Frank, the biggest smile would spread on my face and it was genuine. THe picture of the two of us, more often than not, at least one of us isn't looking at the camera but at each other. I love holding him and I hate seeing him cry. And I miss kissing him and being with him. I don't know what I'm to do without him. Right now, he needs to know how I feel because I want this to be real, I'm not afraid anymore.