After finishing all the homework set on the first day back (how cruel), I lay in bed, tunes of The Ramones filling my room from my trusty CD player. The flickering light of my bedside lamp danced on the pages of a comic Gerard had left behind during his last secretive visit.
"Frank!"
My heart leaped at the abrupt interruption, and I practically jumped out of my skin. I threw my pillow at Gerard, who had just climbed through my window, relief flooding me as I saw his familiar face.
"What the fuck? I nearly died! I nearly had a heart attack!" I half-yelled, my eyes wide with horror.
"Oops," he said with a sly, remorseless grin and a shrug.
"No! Not 'oops,'" I mocked, sitting back down and holding my hand to my heart to be extra dramatic. "Who crawls through people's windows at 10 pm?"
"I do," he stated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Well, not anymore you don't. If you ever do something so silly again, Gerard, I'm going to shut the window on your fingertips," I threatened, watching him carefully. A moment passed. "How did you even get up?"
"I climbed," he explained, sitting beside me closely on the bed, our legs touching.
I groaned and stood up, walking to the other side of my bed and sitting to face away from him. He couldn't just ignore me for over a month and then show up in my room, acting like everything was as it was.
"C'mon Frankie," he sighed, tipping his body backward to lie flat on the bed, looking up at me. "You can't be mad forever."
"Explain yourself," I demanded as calmly as I could, crossing my arms and looking away. If I looked at him, I'd forgive him immediately.
"I was going through some stuff during the summer, Frank. I'm really sorry," he huffed, sounding genuine. "It won't ever happen again."
"Stuff?" I questioned, not satisfied with the half-assed explanation. He sat up and sighed quietly, likely hoping I didn't catch it.
"I can't say."
My face remained the same as I watched him begin to pace about my room.
"Can't or won't?" I questioned.
"Can't," he insisted.
"Says who?"
This question stumped him, and he froze for a slight moment before answering, "I'll tell you one day, Frank, I promise."
I pushed myself up so I stood directly in front of him and observed the many differences in him.
"Your skin is paler than usual," I pointed out, taking his wrist, pulling up his sleeve, and raising his arm to eye level so he could see how ashen he was.
"Didn't go out much," he explained.
"We're Italian Gerard, your disgracing our ancestor's with this chalky colour" I joke "You're taller too," I said, slightly salty at his rapid growth; he was at least two inches taller than before summer.
"Growth spurt, I guess."
"Not fair," I muttered, rolling my eyes, causing him to snort. "So, Andy Biersack, huh?"
Gerard's laughter ceased, and his face returned to its previous solemnity. "It's complicated. I kind of have to hang around with him and the rest," he admitted.
"But why?" I asked. "Does your mom think I'm a bad influence or something?"
"Of course not. She loves you," he reassured me.
Another longer moment of silence passed over us.
"So, are things gonna go back to normal?" I asked, trying not to give away how hopeful and desperate I was to have my friend back.
Gerard seemed uncomfortable for a moment and paused. "I don't think things can be normal for a while, Frank," he sighed and headed for my door.
"Wait, wait, wait!" I exclaimed quickly before he left again. "Gerard, you can tell me anything. I'm your best friend, man. Whatever is going on, you can tell me."
He gave me a sad look and shook his head. "I really just...can't, Frank. It's for your own good, I promise."
"And you're sure it's for my own good?" I challenged.
"Not really," he shrugged before walking out my door.
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In the following days, the tension lingered between us, like an unspoken question hovering in the air. Since he came over, he'd started answering my texts and returning my calls but he was still physically distant. He hung out with Pete and Brendon under the large tree outside whilst I sheltered away with Patrick and Ryan beneath the bleachers. Even at lunch he always politely declined eating with me.
As I navigated the corridors of our high school, it became evident that everyone who knew of me knew how Gerard had discarded me over summer. As I walked I was constantly met with pitying looks and curious glances.
The bell signaling the end of the school day rang, and I trudged back home, finally making it to friday. The comic Gerard had left lay on my desk, a constant reminder of a friendship that now stood with an unpredictable crumbling future. As the evening sun cast long shadows through my bedroom window, I found myself standing by it, wondering if the secrets Gerard was keeping were truly the honest reason why we had become estranged from each other or whether it was my own fault and he had finally grown tired of me.
I felt like I had manifested him with my thoughts as he appeared below my windowsill on the street looking up at me, but if manifestation was truly the case, Gerard would be around wherever I went.
My eyes widened in alarm as I realised I was staring like some fool and watched as he reached his hand in to his pocket, I felt my phone buzz. Quickly, I reached for it, flipping it open and answering his call.
"Hey, Frankie."
I squinted for a moment down below just to check it was really him and not just wishful thinking.
"What's up?" I asked, my tone casual, masking the underlying ache.
"Look, about everything... I want you to know I didn't want things to change." Gerard's gaze shifted to the floor, an unspoken weight in his words.
"Then why did they?" I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity tinged with a hint of sadness.
"It's complicated," he sighed, running a hand through his long raven hair.
The sun hit me, I felt my skin warm and the air felt thick.
"I don't like keeping secrets from you, Frank. But this... I can't explain it right now," he admitted, his eyes meeting mine, a plea for my understanding evident in his eyes and voice.
A pause lingered between us both, and I let out a sigh, the tension easing a fraction. "You've got to give me something, Gerard. It's like you disappeared, and I'm left here wondering if we're still even friends."
A conflicted expression flickered across his face. "I didn't want to hurt you. But it's not just about us. Well it is I guess. There are things I can't control. I just need to keep you safe"
The cryptic nature of his response only fueled my frustration, yet a sense of empathy tempered my emotions. We were navigating uncharted territory, and the maps were written in a language neither of us understood.
"Is this about your mafia uncle who I said looked like foreskin whilst he was behind me?" I ask knowing the answer already but I was desperate to lighten the mood. "Does he want revenge? Am I gonna go through some 'Godfather' shit?"
And yes, when we were 12 Gerard's uncle from Sicily (Who we deeply believe to be a mafia boss) came to visit and he did in fact look like foreskin.
He let out a sweet laugh clearly remembering the incident.
Another longer silence.
"So, what now?" I asked, my tone softer, still holding the phone close to my ear
"I can't promise you that everything will go back to how it was, Frank. But I need you to trust me okay." Gerard's gaze held mine, a mixture of sadness and determination. "Can you do that for me?"
"Of course" I smile and act as if I'm not totally and completely dying on the inside. It's been long enough, I missed him more than anyone could fathom.