Welcome to the Pride Parade [Frerard AU]

Part II: Chapter 2

After I sent it I realized how insensitively that could be interpreted. I sounded completely against him and on the parental side of things. I tried, I tried... but this was probably going to start an argument before it would start a healthy conversation.

Three little dots popped up in the corner to indicate that he was typing. I stared at it, my heart pounding, waiting to see how he'd reply, hoping he wasn't in danger of himself – after his almost-death a month ago, my only wish was that I wasn't adding fuel to the fire. I was tempted to type out an apology to follow it, but I had no idea how to word it. It was probably too late, anyway.

His message finally popped up on my screen, a pretty unexpected answer.

From Frank Iero: I'm just now realizing that I didn't tell you that my parents actually don't do that for me. I was the one who wondered if I had depression to begin with and I was the one who asked to be tested. They thought it was stupid then too, just a phase or a bad day or something. When the doctors agreed I had it I practically had to beg them to get me treated because I didn't want to be depressed. I wanted my emotions back and for my mind to tell me I was worth something to the world. I didn't even start therapy until I could drive myself there and back because they didn't want to support something they thought I could get over just by trying harder. I pay for my own treatment and everything. But because I'm under 18 they still have to sign for everything. So thank you for trying to get me to see their side (because I do need that a lot more than I'd like to admit) but the problem is I'm not sure they have any common ground with me.

By the time I got to the end of his text, a second one had popped up.

From Frank Iero: I'm oversharing, sorry

Don't apologize, I typed. My mind was spinning at such a confession, though. It was one thing to be very anti-mental-disorder and "not believe in them;" I'd heard of that many times before. But this seemed extreme. I was surprised the doctors and therapists he talked to weren't concerned about this. Was this some form of neglect? I wasn't really sure what qualified. All the same, I didn't want to jump into those waters too quickly. I stayed on the shores instead.

From Gerard Way: Don't apologize. If anything, that makes you even stronger and gives you even more to be proud of. You're prioritizing your own health no matter how hard that is to do or how much your parents are trying to stop you, and that's awesome! The idea that you're willing to do this despite the extreme lack of support is crazy mature of you.

I sent it there because I didn't know what kind of help to offer. I could offer to help him pay for his meds or drive him to therapy, but I was sure he'd refuse.

From Frank Iero: thanks I guess. Sorry for bothering you with all this

Shit, up went the walls again. Was I doing this wrong, or was he just not in the mood to talk about it anymore? I couldn't ask, I could only guess. Knowing me, the former. I typed out a reply as quickly as my fingers would let me, afraid the conversation was about to die.

From Gerard Way: You're not bothering me! Is there anything I can do to help?

From Frank Iero: I don't think so. thank you though <3

Everything about that text was just downright distracting.

First of all, nothing I could do to help. Fantastic. What could I do with this information if he wouldn't even suggest a use for it? Sure, he'd said he just wanted someone to vent to at first, but as much as I could understand the need for sheer emotional support, I'd prefer to solve the problem above just being sad about the problem existing. Either I'd have to come up with something I could do to help him on my own (which might come across as intrusive, who knows?), or I could do nothing and sit here feeling helpless. The latter was the more likely to be the thing I'd do.

Second of all, signing off with a text-heart? Was that something we did? Was that something we were going to start doing? No complaints, of course, but that seemed like some sort of relationship milestone. Was I over-analyzing this? Yes. But I wasn't used to it. And that was what I did when I wasn't used to something.

Was this man aware of what he was doing to me?

From Gerard Way: if there's anything, you know I'm here <3

I clicked Send before I could stop myself, though I instantly threw my phone down on the bed and covered my face. That was way too mushy! Too forward!

I managed to stop that anxiety right there, conscious of how ridiculous that was. Too forward? You're dating.

He didn't reply, but he didn't have to. I left the subject alone, knowing that if I tried to say anything else it would only hurt the situation.