♪ You see me and you laugh out loud, you taunt me from safe inside your crowd. My looks, they must threaten you to make you act the way you do. RED, I'M SEEING RED! ♪

Frank woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He rubbed his eyes at the bright screen. “Shit,” he murmured to himself.
“Hey, mom,” he said answering the phone with his groggy voice.
“Oh my God, Frank, where are you? It's 2:30 in the morning, son!” his mother screeched into the phone.
He sighed, “I'm sorry Mom, I jus-”
“Where are you!? Are you safe? Are you okay? I'm coming to get you, where are you?”
“Mom, mom, I'm fine, I just fell asleep at a park, it's really close to home, I'll be there in 5 minutes I promise.”
“If you're not here in 5 minutes, I'm calling the police, Frank.” she threatened.

Frank knew his mom wouldn't really call the police, it was an empty threat to make him actually come home. He had no intention on falling asleep at the park, and honestly it was the best sleep Frank had got in months. No dreams to taunt him, no pointless conversations flooding his mind. He looked at his phone which had missed texts, mostly from his cousin pestering him about the new CD she had.

“Sorry, Ror, fell asleep. I'll listen to the CD tomorrow, yeah? Night (:” he replied.

He turned up his iPod, choosing the Ramones this time, and started to sprint to his new home. He ran through the street, under the trees. His outfit being all black, you could hardly see him, and because of his small stature, it was tough to hear him running around as well. He slowed down as he got to his driveway, and he saw that the living room light was left on. He sighed and turned off his music, putting his iPod in his pocket. He braced himself as he walked in the front door. He expected his father to be awake as well, and for the yelling and the well known “I'm disappointed in you,” lecture to start. Instead, it was his mother on the couch drinking wine. Her brown silky hair was a mess, pulled up into a loose bun, with strands falling around her face. Her left over makeup from earlier in the day was streaming down her face. Bags were set under her eyes and dark circles hid her naturally vibrant eyes. Her glass of wine was nearly empty, and her night gown was stained with tears.

“I was so worried, Frank.” she said and took a sip of her wine. “After what happened last time, I... I just...”

His mother started to cry heavily and just sobbed into her hands. Frank rolled his eyes and sighed before going over to comfort his mother.

“Mom, I told you, I'm sorry, and I told you I wouldn't do that again. I just fell asleep at the park, I swear.” he condoled her. “I promise, I'm never going to do anything like that again.”

His promises were somewhat legit, he didn't want to hurt his family again. He didn't regret what he did that day, though. He did what he felt was needed, and he'd do it again. If he could do it over, he would, but he would do it right this time which was somewhat contradicting. He didn't want to hurt his family, but given the chance, he would have made sure he died.

”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. He felt his breathing getting slower, he felt the weight on his chest. It was nothing compared to the weight of the world on his shoulders he had been feeling the past couple of days. She ruined him, she did this to him, she's the one who did it. That's how Frank thought of it. He didn't consider it suicide, she fucking did it to him, this was more of a muder than anything else. His finger tips started to tingle. A familiar feeling washed over him. At first he thought it was a serenity, his ears deafened by the silence of his house. He laid there on the bathroom floor as he felt the unnatural feeling engulf him. All of a sudden it was no longer peaceful, it was harsh. His stomach flipped around in his body. His mouth started to water and his eyes shot open. The bathroom lights blinded him, but it was nothing compared to the sudden sickness he felt. A tear left his eyes as he tried to sit up. Instantly everything he had just swallowed came back up with a vengeance. The Jack Daniels he had drowned himself in fought its way back up. Frank lunged for the toilet, hardly making it before the contents of his stomach spilled out. He threw up everything. Every last bit of alcohol seemed to regurgitate up and into the toilet. Frank puked for the next half hour straight. His throat seemed raw and on fire, his stomach muscles becoming increasingly sore as each heave of puke came, they tensed up violently. His eyes hurt from the tears being produced with each hurl, and they were red and puffy by now. Eventually it all stopped. Frank was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He flushed the toilet a final time and laid on his side. His head resting in his hands, he closed his eyes. His breathing became regular again, but his head pounded and the once welcomed ringing of silence in his ears now mocked him with it's loudness. Soon after, Frank fell asleep.

“I'm just glad you're okay,” his mom said, “Please, please never do that to me again. I won't keep you a prisoner here, I promise you that, just let me know if you're going to be out all night, and for God's sake, Frank, don't stay out at a park like a homeless person. Someone's house is one thing, but a park? Do you know what can happen to you? You're a young man, you're not bulletproof,” his mom continued. “Come here.”

Frank's mom hugged him tightly. He felt guilty for not telling his mom where he was and for falling asleep, but glad that he hadn't done anything stupid. He can see how is mom is reacting now, never mind if something dangerous had actually happened.

“I'm going to bed, now.” Frank said and went up to his room. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie,” his mom said and smiled, “You're my baby, and you'll always be my baby.”
“I know,” he said and walked up stairs.

Frank sat on his bed in complete darkness other than the alarm clock next to his bed. That was the only source of light, but the yellow numbering was bright enough for Frank to dimly see around his room. He saw his guitar in the corner, sad and feeble. The string was still broken from the last encounter with it, since he never bothered to fix it. He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He suddenly wasn't tired anymore. Frank rummaged through his bed side table to find his secret stash of sleeping aids. He looked at them while he ran his finger over the pile. Air filled his lungs as he put them down and took out a notebook and pen instead. He started to write, even though he didn't know what he was doing. It'd been a long time since he'd written music, but he was going to try. He wrote until his hand was numb and sore. He put the pen down and shook his hand to loosen the constricted muscles. He then looked at the yellow numbers of his clock. 6:05. He'd been writing music for more than 3 hours, and he had one big inspiration. It was Gerard whether or not his subconscious was willing to admit it or not. Suddenly, he heard his dad getting ready for work, so he decided to meet him in the kitchen.

“Morning, son?” his dad greeted questionably as he made his morning cup of Joe.
Frank smiled and waved, “Hey, dad.”
“You're up early. Did you get in alright last night?”

His dad seemed to be oblivious of what had happened just hours before.

“Can I have some?” Frank asked nodding towards the coffee.
“Of course,” the older man with character lines over his face answered.

Frank played with his lip ring on the left side of his lip with his tongue absentmindedly.
“I remember when you wouldn't stop hassling your mother and I about those stupid things,” his dad said and laughed.
“What?” Frank said confused.

The salt and pepper haired elder pointed to his lip and nose where Frank had pierced his skin. “Geez, you were relentless.”
Frank laughed, “I really wanted them, and 3 years later, I still don't regret them.”
“It's good to hear you laugh, son.” his father said as he handed him his coffee black.
“Erm, sugar, please?” Frank said.
“Oh, right, you like to drink your coffee 'froo-froo-y'” he laughed.
“Is that the technical term, Dad?” Frank said with a chuckle.

- - -

Mindlessly flipping through the channels of the flat screen TV in his living room, Frank soon got bored. He'd eaten all the food in the house that wasn't reserved for planned dinners later in the week, and his cousin wasn't awake to face the day yet. He walked upstairs and looked at himself in the mirror in his bedroom. He ruffled his hair a bit before glancing down towards his guitar. He picked it up and felt the smoothness of it. He felt the strings in his hands and remembered how long it took to get calluses on his fingers so that it was comfortable to play. They were almost like his mini trophies to show his hard work and dedication to the instrument he loved. He put Pansy back on it's stand and sat on his bed, grabbing his phone out of his pocket.

“What's up?” he texted.
“Workin' on some homework, man. What about you?”
“Bored.”
“Wanna' meet up?”
Frankie caught himself before he sent the next text message. The word on the screen said 'yes,' but Frank quickly erased it.
“Can't sorry,” he sent instead.
“Cool, maybe next time.” Gerard replied.
“Aurora, wake up,” Frankie wrote to his cousin instead.