+Bad Catholics+ Frank Iero

+13+

Frank followed me as I led him into a cut-through in the field just about as well as my legs could carry me. Apparently you don't know quite how drunk you are until you sprint full speed and stop to catch your breath. Not that Frank cared- he pulled a small flask out of his front jacket pocket before I could finish my sentence.

I wasn't quite sure what I was doing. Something about that night made it feel like time was standing still- like I could tell someone every little thing, and when it resumed, no one would remember a word because it never even happened in the first place. A secret bubble in which I could be a different person without a consequence, or a response. I could just be. I couldn't think in that moment of a more pleasant place to be in.

But still, I was merely myself, and I could never do something quite that simple. That thought did still pang now and again as it always did, however this time it was a little softer, a little less frequent. Cushioned by whiskey.

"You really are full of surprises tonight," Frank said, handing his flask over to me.

"What's in it?"

"It will make you drunk all the same."

I looked over my shoulder as we continued walking, Frank chuckling as I took it out of his hand. I made a face as I took a small sip and quickly handed it back to him, still not used to the taste of strong alcohol regardless of how much I likely had earlier in the night. I was surprised at how few questions Frank asked about where we were going, or what we were doing. It seemed anything that fractured my typical characteristics no matter how small, he managed to pick up on- and my actions in that moment were a clean break.

"So," I spoke up, unsure of how confident I was in actually leading a conversation for once. "I didn't get a chance to ask you if everything was okay with... you know-"

"Oh," Frank laughed, taking a swig. "Yeah. I'm not worried about that."

"Gerard seems to have quite the distaste for her."

"He's my best friend. He would be an asshole if he didn't."

I looked down as I continued walking, not wanting to pry. For some reason I was incredibly curious about the situation. Perhaps because I hardly ever encountered human conflict outside of books- but maybe I just kind of selfishly wanted to know, too. Still, I remained silent.

"People just fuck you over, you know?" Frank continued, unprompted. "And it's so easy to fall for it sometimes. I learned that the hard way. Well, I learn most things the hard way."

"We're still in high school, Frank. It's supposed to be that way," I said, almost counter intuitive to my own reality. I spent my entire life up until then trying to learn from my father's mistakes as opposed to my own.

"It doesn't make it any easier. At least when it comes to people. They all say something, and mean something else. Life is too much fun to care about any of that bullshit," He said, motioning the flask to me again. "That's why I like you, Mae. You might want to kill me most of the time, but at least you tell me."

My eyes widened at what he said, suddenly feeling a little guilty. Although I didn't owe it to anyone, I wasn't honest with Frank about particularly anything. I wasn't sure what he thought he knew about me, but whatever it was, it likely didn't tickle the surface. Lying about my life didn't seem to bother me until that very second, and I couldn't explain why. Something about what he said regarding people saying things and meaning something else struck a deep chord I didn't know I had- perhaps because I felt the same way.

I said nothing and took the flask from him as we stopped, taking the biggest gulp I could without appearing conspicuous. Luckily we arrived at the wooden bridge that held up the train tracks, and it was a good enough excuse to cease the conversation before I lost control of it.