Words Mean Nothing.

Frank stared up at the luminescent neon sign in front of him. The hundreds of words developing a single menu engulfed him as he tried to figure out what the fuck any of it was. He wasn't exactly one to usually eat out. I mean, the most he ever ate out was ordering a pizza or chinese from a store next to their local "Shoprite". What the fuck was a Bacon Cheddar Cheese Onion Ring Burger Deluxe and a Chimicherrychanga?

He mindlessly traced his fingers along the groves of the sticky silver round table he was sitting at. Why would they stop at an Ice Cream joint in the middle of December? Unable to figure out the thoughts going through Mikey & Gerard's heads he just stared over at the two boys. They were standing a few feet away from him talking about which one they'd rather have a chili-dog deluxe or a Chicken Sandwich deluxe. Frank decided to ignore the menu and the two boys, he'd forgotten his wallet and after the events that had happened earlier that day he wasn't really feeling the whole food consumption thing. Frank's stomach had become a ship being thrashed around by a treacherous storm.

Not having anything to help him escape and realize only he could truly harm himself, was the hardest thing to grasp. He'd felt like he'd lost another member of his family, not only his father. The poor boy so scared of life, and so unprepared for what was going to happen in his future. The very idea of being unprepared terrified him to a point that only someone with his condition could understand. It was like showing up at a test that could determine your future without studying. Absolutely, terrible. Why did Gerard have to save him anyway? What did Gerard care whether Frank was dead or alive? It wasn't any of his concern. Frank wished that he'd have been able to finish the job he'd planned.

"Frank, aren't you going to eat?" Mikey slid into the chair in front of Frank carrying a tray with a chili-dog, fries and some sort of soda in a styrofoam cup. The aroma hit Frank like a bullet and he could feel his stomach begin to gurgle.

"Um..No. I'm not really hungry." Frank lied as he tried to focus his mind on something else in the room that wasn't food related. His eyes came to rest on the checkered floor tiles.

"Oh, well..I understand. You did have a pretty tough day. I can't even imagine going through what you did." Mikey smiled picking up a fry and bringing it to his mouth with lightning speed.

"Yeah, it basically washed my appetite away."

"Are you going to be okay, Frank? I mean, really okay?" Mikey's voice was hallow as he stared at Frank attempting to read whatever facial expressions the boy let show. A smile raised to his lips.

"To be honest, I can't promise anything except for the fact that I'm going to try to be okay. I want to be okay, but, I was just never really given a reason to be okay."

"That's all you can do, I suppose." Mikey smiled back, satisfied with Frank's response.

"Yeah." An awkward silence fell across the table like a veil but Frank was relieved that Mikey didn't press the issue any longer. The truth is Frank didn't want to change himself, he liked himself just the way he was. He wasn't hurting anyone besides himself, so why should it matter to anyone?

Gerard slid into the seat next to Frank, brushing his leg against Frank's. A Chill ran up Frank's spine and he slid his chair farther away from Gerard's. Gerard's tray was fuller than Mikey's had been and Frank was confused when Gerard shoved food in front of him.

"What are you doing?" asked Frank.

"Well, I figured by the way you were avoiding the gaze of the menu that you were hungry, but, when you didn't go to order anything I figured it could have been one of two things: One you could be anorexic because hell, let's face it you're skinny enough or two you forgot your wallet and was trying to forget about the food.
So, me being fucking fantastic decided to buy you dinner. It's the least I can do, and you've gotta be hungry, right? When was the last time you ate, dude?" Gerard rambled shoving a checkered cardboard box at Frank, a cup filled with crispy fries and a styrofoam cup.

"Um…..This morn-no..um…Yesterday? I think…" Frank felt his cheeks begin to heat up. How could he not remember when he ate last? He was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic and now a complete mooch.

"How are you alive?" Mikey blurted out, through a chili-dog filled mouth.

"Yeah, man. Mikey and I wouldn't be able to miss one meal. We'd die." Gerard laughed unwrapping his burger and taking a huge bite out of it.

Frank looked down at the food in front of him. Completely guilty about Gerard buying it for him, but, the deed was already done and it'd not like you can return food. He unwrapped the checkered box, and looked down at some sort of chicken sandwich. Fuck. It had meat on it.

Although Frank normally didn't like to eat anything that had been touching meat, he definitely wasn't going to eat the meat for Gerard. Feeling completely guilty doing it, but not able to give up his moral values completely, he reached in and took the meat off of the bun. He abandoned the dead decomposing flesh in the upper half of the box and placed the upper bun back onto the now lettus, tomato and mayonnaise sandwich.

Pushing the fact that the decomposing flesh had been resting upon the vegetative bed far out of his brain, he took a deep breath and bit into the sandwich. The warm bread and crispy lettus slid down his throat and tasted like pure bliss. Frank had never known that food could have ever tasted so good, of course that was probably just the time to food ratio talking.

"Do you not like chicken?" Gerard asked noticing the now forgotten chicken.

"Um…I'm actually just a vegetarian." Frank glanced up from his 'MLT' into Gerard's coffee brown eyes. His enchanting eyes. Holy Shit did he just?