Battling the loss you live for (Frerard)

Part one - guilttripping

Chapter one - guilttripping

I said I'd post the first chapter in a few weeks and it's only been twelve days but I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF.

Right. My first chapters always suck. Face it. But please just brave it because the story will get better. C'mon. Frank the accountant who has no time for his daughter and Gerard the obnoxious jerk taking up all his time. How can you resist?

Read on, my baby skittles. Read on.

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“Shit, shit, shit, shit–” Frank muttered as he stamped his foot down on the gas pedal.

He was late. Really fucking late. And Rosie’s recital was tonight.

He’d been working all day on Mr Banner’s taxes, and his mind was fuzzy from all the numbers. Frank despised his job.

He hated being an accountant so much, but really, it was all he was good at. He could play guitar pretty well, but he’d never had the guts to start a band or try on his own, so as soon as he got out of college, he’d just gone straight for the first dull old job opportunity that came up.

Unfortunately, being an accountant was incredibly time consuming, and it had ended up eating away at all the afternoons he could have been spending with his daughter. Rosie was starting to get upset that he wasn’t spending any time with her, so he’d had to reschedule his appointment with Mr Winters to tomorrow and do Mr Banner’s taxes in a hurry just so he could eat dinner with her.

Frank had only just managed to leave the house in time for Rosie’s concert today, but he’d run into traffic almost the moment he’d left the driveway. And now he was late. Again.

“Shit!” he repeated as the van in front of him slowed to make a turn. He was only a stone’s throw away from the school, but parking the car was proving much more of a struggle than he’d expected.

The van in front of him finally turned, and Frank sped forwards then quickly hit the brakes as he reached the school car park. He parked over two spaces, but really, in a school car park, who was going to do anything about it?

Unbuckling his seatbelt before he had even turned the engine off, Frank scrambled to climb out of the car and slam the door behind him. He sprinted across the playground to the entrance to the school and quickly slipped in at the back of the assembly hall.

Behind the teacher who was introducing the act, in the middle of the orchestra, Rosie sat, violin clutched to her chest, and big blue eyes searching the audience for her father.

Frank sighed in relief– the performance hadn’t started yet. He stood on his tiptoes so he could see her better (and so she could see him), but lost sight of her when the tall man standing in front of him shifted his weight to his other foot, blocking Frank’s view in the process. He sighed.

It was his only choice to jump up in the air to try and catch a glimpse of his daughter (damn his shortness), and, humiliating as it was, it worked.

When Rosie’s eyes met Frank’s, her face lit up, and she bounced in her seat a little in excitement. This was the first one of her concerts Frank had been able to make it to in years.

Frank was probably more excited than Rosie.

He knew she was going to be amazing, and he couldn’t wait to see her play up on stage. And the performance certainly lived up to his expectations. He could hear Rosie’s part throughout the whole piece, and she played beautifully. He was so proud.