The Murder Scene (Frerard)

I'd Love To Always Be A Small Part Of What Makes You Smile

Chapter Seven.
Title from Guilt Tripping by Frank Iero And The Patience.

I glanced over at the sleeping boy, I'm actually glad that he finally slept. We've been on the road for quite a few hours, too scared to stop and get a motel until we're a safe distance away.

I know that Miss Florence is good at finding, but won't there be a point where she gives up? Won't there be a point where we are too far and she doesn't have a resources to find us?
She doesn't have the technology the cops have, even if she can hire anyone she wants. She also can't publicize it because then that would mean giving away the reason we ran.

I was starting to feel like it might be possible to get out of this alive.
Maybe I can have a normal life, maybe Frank can.

He slept with his face laying on the window of the new car we recently stole. We made sure it wasn't anything too obvious or expensive, and we stole another cars tag. Somehow Frank knew how to hot wire the car, so that was useful.

He slept for a few hours while I drove, sometimes stirring and muttering quiet words I couldn't understand. I didn't care to understand, for some reason it just made me content that he was sleeping and both of us ended up being alright.
I was afraid earlier that this wouldn't work out.

I was in a driving daze, trying not to think about the blood and yet only thinking about the blood. Seeing Frank was almost like the water that washed the blood off my hands every time.
Frank was refreshing, like water in the desert. A scorching, unbearable and hungry desert that I had been trapped in for five years. Even before the desert, I never knew true happiness.
Mikey gave me a reason to live, to keep trying for him. When I lost him it was like losing me.

I was startled, nearly jumping when Frank erupted in screams beside me. He screamed and thrashed.

"Hey, hey Frankie, it's okay" I said, trying to be loud for him to hear me through it all. I thought of reaching over to touch him, but I knew he didn't want me to touch him. "It's okay, a dream is all" I assured him as he stopped screaming and leaned back against the seat with heavy breaths.

I felt bad. I felt the pain.
I didn't want him to hurt or be sad or any of that, I wanted Frank to be happy, even for a second. I've never seen him happy, and the closest to a smile he's ever given me was a ghost of one.

It wasn't until now that I realized I just called him Frankie. Where did that come from?
I'm not sure I cared, I was just trying to let him know it's me.

He didn't say anything as he stayed against the seat, breathing heavy. It was like he was trying to breathe but couldn't. "It's okay, you want some fresh air?" I asked him, taking my eyes off the road for only a short second to see his eyes on me. No response but I could tell by his look that he needed it, he was gasping, panicking.

"Pull over" he said urgently before I got the windows down. I did as he said, and it didn't take me long to realize that he was about to throw up.
I got out as soon as I stopped and he opened his door, he didn't make it far from the car at all before he was throwing up. He sat on his hands and knees as he made the terrible retching noises.

I knew he wouldn't want me to touch him, and I respected that because I'm the same way. Instead, I cautiously got beside him.
"Frank, can I touch you?" I asked, as he began to vomit another time. He knew that I didn't mean anything too much, because really I just wanted to make sure none of his hair got in the way.

He nodded at me as he finished, but remained hunched over like he might throw up once more. I used my fingertips to push the hair out of his eyes. It stuck to his forehead that was damp with sweat. Even though we were both sitting over his vomit, I didn't mind. I've seen and done much worse.

I got up and went to the back of the car, grabbing a bottle of water from one of his grocery bags and an extra white t-shirt from mine. I handed them both to him so he could clean himself off.
His clothes were clean, so he was okay as far as that went.

He wiped his mouth and chin, sitting back on his legs as he swished water in his mouth and spit it out a few times before he drank the water.

"You okay?" I asked, feeling genuinely concerned. I hated seeing him hurt.

He nodded and began to stand up, I offered my hand out to him and he looked at me for a moment. His eyes were wide and swimming, his face pale. I was shocked when he wrapped his hand around my wrist, and I wrapped mine around his to pull him up.

We let go and stood there for a moment, he took deep breath. "I think I'm good" he said almost weakly, his voice hoarse as we both walked back to the car.

When we got back on the road, we had the windows open so he could have some fresh air. He sat his head on the car door and let the wind blow through his black hair, it ran over his pale, sad face and he closed his eyes.
I knew he wasn't sleeping, but seeing him like that was a sight that made me feel things.

How come I feel more and more human emotions the longer I spend with Frank?

***

"Do you think it's safe here?" Frank asked as I sat my bags down in front of my bed, and he sat his down in front of his.

"It's safe for now" I assured him "you should get some rest" I said, sitting down on the bed that was neither soft or stiff.

He sat down too and gave me a sad look. I knew he wouldn't be able to sleep after whatever that dream was about.

"Is there anywhere you wanna go?" I asked him "a state you've always wanted to live in?" I continued.

Frank shrugged "never really thought I'd ever get out of New Jersey" he said softly.

"I was thinking we could get to Oregon or California.. something like that, it's far" I said, watching him nod.

If I didn't have all of this money we would be screwed, but I can easily make it there and maybe even find a small place to live.

Frank played with the sleeves of his black hoodie, I've never seen him in anything else. A black hoodie and black jeans, it suit him though.
He was small, and innocent, and such a mystery to me. It was a mystery why he could make me feel things after five years of nothing.

"Do you not want to stop by and see any family? Are you okay with leaving them?" I asked him. His eyes fell on me before falling to the floor.

"They're all dead" he said gently, adding a ping of guilty pain to my chest.

"I'm sorry, Frank" I said, honestly. I am sorry. I'm sorry for whatever happened to them and for asking.

"It's okay" he replied.

We sat there, not saying much of anything for at least an hour. Neither of us sleeping.
"Why do you care about if I live?" He asked out of the blue, putting a hard question in front of me. I didn't want to weird him out.

"I knew I wouldn't be able to do it when I saw you" I said softly "something about you.. I don't know, it sounds stupid" I tried to awkwardly chuckle. Something about him makes me comfortable to relax enough to smile, even if it's just a little bit.

"It's not stupid" he said lightly. I could tell he wanted me to say more.

"You're just special? I don't know. I've barely felt an emotion for five years and then when I met you and tried to kill you, I started feeling a few more. I don't know, it sounds really creepy-" I stumbled on my words, watching his eyes on me.

"It's not creepy, I promise" he said, offering me the first, tiniest, and biggest smile I've seen from him.
His lips curled ever so slightly at the edges, forming one of the best things I've ever seen in my life. I didn't stop myself from smiling in reply to his.

I wanted to tell him how nice his smile was. I wanted to tell him that a smile looked good on him, like it belonged on his lips. I wanted him to know that he looked beautiful, both before and after the smile, but the smile made me feel even more things.
Adoration.

I felt like my chest might actually explode, and it was because of that tiny smile.