“We really are a cute couple, cuter than you two ever where.” Frank read to himself as he opened the text message from an unknown number. He didn't have to have the phone number in his contacts to know exactly who it was.
“Fuck off.” Frank replied to the number.
“It's good you left since you'll never be with her... Running away from Portland, running away from your problems, it's impossible Frankie Boy.. it'll always catch up to you. You can still kill yourself in Jersey, too, ya know.” the next text read.
“Fuck. Off.” he replied once more before blocking the number.

Frank threw his phone across the room and just sat there with his head in his arms. He's tired of this bullshit, tired of constantly being reminded of what happened. His ex's current fling is relentless, consistently harassing him. He can't take it much longer. As his breathing became heavier and heavier, he noticed he had started to nearly cry. His lip quivered and memories started to submerge his brain, memories he had tried so hard to never recover.

She snuggled into his chest like she belonged there, and if it were up to him, she did. That spot on his body was reserved for her, was made for her. He smelled her freshly washed hair and smiled at the familiar scent. He wrapped his arms around her body tightly, snug enough to show that he loved her, but loose enough to keep the embrace relaxed. He kissed the top of her head before she looked up and met his eyes with hers. She let out a sigh and a smile which nearly melted his heart right there on the spot. He loved her. He licked his lip softly before planting a calm kiss on her lips. She returned the gesture as they shared an innocent kiss that soon turned more passionate. She stopped suddenly and looked deep into his eyes, “I love you,” she whispered for the first time. Frank's heart stopped beating for a second as butterflies decided to explode in the pit of his stomach. “I love you, too,” he replied before kissing her again. It was a long, deep kiss and it meant the word to both of them. In that moment, nothing in the world was imperfect, nothing hurt.

Frank felt the hot streams down his face and suddenly gasped for air. He had forgotten to breath as he relived his once favorite memory. Now, it only haunts him. “Fucking bitch,” he said to himself as he flopped on his bed. He just laid there motionless and stared at his guitar.

His hands strummed the guitar with ease, taking no real concentration or effort to play the notes flawlessly. He cried hard as he played the song. He had just heard the news. She told him everything. The whole fucking last six months were just a lie. He threw the guitar down to the floor, breaking, surprisingly, only a string in the process and threw his door open. “Mom!” Frank yelled, “Dad?” he questioned. No answer. He was alone in every sense of the word. Tears were filling his eyes, making his vision blurred as he ran across the room to the kitchen. He said on the counter and just thought for what it seemed like hours. Thinking usually calmed him down, but instead it just made him angrier, more revengeful, more depressed. He glanced down in the sink where he saw a knife sitting there. It would be so easy, just to take it and kill himself with it. It'd be quick, he thought to himself. He glanced around and noticed the alcohol in the cupboard across the room. Frank practically sprinted to it like it was calling his name. It's as if the whiskey bottle needed him as much as he needed it. He gulped down the first mouthful, cringing as the burning in his throat multiplied. He didn't care, though, he continued to drink and drink until the bottle was gone. No, the bottle wasn't full to begin with, but it was full enough to get him fucking wasted and that was his every intention. He sat there waiting for it to kick in, replaying her words over and over in her head. “I'm pregnant,” she said. She's pregnant. She's pregnant! She's PREGNANT. “Fuck it!” Frank exclaimed out loud and stormed to the bathroom where his faithful sleeping pills were. He took a handful without thinking and swallowed effortlessly, without any liquid to wash it down. His long, shoulder length hair was sticking to his forehead. The alcohol kicked in and he was starting to overheat but that was the least of his worries. The sweat made his clothes stick to his skin. He looked at himself in the mirror, and couldn't help but feel utter disgust at what he saw. “You're pathetic.” he said to himself through gritted teeth, “Fucking pathetic.” Soon after, he met peacefulness, he met the darkness, he fell into a slumber.

- - -

Frank looked and felt like shit today. He didn't sleep at all last night, because his mind decided that it was just going to stay on repeat and stream the worst memories it could conjure.

“Today there will be a class project. You will have a partner, as always. You're going to have to get into each other's head, get to know each other on a different level than most projects require,” the teacher said before being interrupted by the classes groans, “Oh please people, this is an AP art class, suck it up and be social! We're social creatures, it will be good for you. So, the assignment is, is just get to know each other. Do the basics you know, names, fears, favorites, etc, but please, go deep. Nothing too crazy, this isn't psychology, but just try to familiarize your partner with yourself. Then, you're going to need to express it via art. I don't care what you express it through, paint, carve, draw, sculpt, do anything you feel is right to explain to the class who that person is. You'll be surprised at how easy this project is if you actually spend time with the person, so pick someone you get along with, and most importantly, have a blast! It's fun getting to know each other, so have some fun, talk things out, and be creative. The project is due in 4 weeks, but you will need “rough drafts” every week. Whether it be an essay, a sketch, an outline, so be it. So, everyone, pick out your partner, and start mingling!”

Frank's stomach flipped. This is exactly the type of projects he despised. He didn't want to get close to anyone, he didn't want to have to open up, nor did he want to open himself to learn about someone else. Getting to know someone means that you start to care for people, and caring is dangerous. Caring is like a game of Russian roulette, you never know when your luck is up, and you'll get shit on.

His eyes scanned the room as everyone picked their partners quickly. He sat there alone until he realized he was the only kid left. Everyone else was paired and Frank was just sitting there without a partner, completed ignored from the class. Until, of course, Gerard walked in. “Sorry teach, he said lightly, you know how traffic can be.”

The teacher smiled, “It's okay,” she said, “I know the university is out of the way from this school.”
The next couple of minutes were reserved for the teacher to explain the assignment to Gerard. Gerard smiled politely and occasionally shook his head to show he understands.

“So does this mean we're partners, then?” he said as he glided over to Frank's desk.
“W-what?” Frank retorted.
“It seems as if everyone's paired up, is it cool if we work together?” he asked calmly.
“Y-yeah, sure I mean... yeah.” Frank answered nervously.
“Frank, right?” Gerard asked and smiled and was answered by a simple head nod. “Awesome, nice to see you again when you're.. erm, not throwing up in a toilet.”
Frank's cheeks blushed and he looked down, “I'm really sorry about that,” he said and Gerard just smiled.
“It happens to the best of us, remember?” Frank just looked at Gerard's face and evaluated his eyes. They were a brown with a hint of green in them, hazel-like. Gerard returned the gaze without saying a word. There was an unspoken, mutual, scrutinizing between the two boys. They were just scoping each other out, and though their looks were probably longer than necessary, it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable at all.

“Well, I guess we can start by what's your favorite movie?” Gerard said as he broke the silence.
“Die Hard.” Frank answered quickly without much thought to it at all.
“That's one of the most perfect action movies!” Gerard exclaimed, “Hell yeah.”
Frank smiled at Gerard's excitement, “Absolutely,” he said. “What about you?”
“Oh man, tons, but if I had to narrow it down, maybe The City of Lost Children? ...No...yeah, yeah, maybe that one. But there's just so many. I like old school horror films, you know? Like the cheesy ones that are artistic and have a lot of different artistic levels and elements on them. Not just the lame bloody, gory shit. That just gets boring to me, you know? Totally predictable as well, it takes no thought process behind it,” he rambled, but it was welcomed. Frank wasn't much of a talker, and for some reason he found Gerard to be very interesting.