Frank wasn't dumb. He heard everything the grown-ups spoke or rather whispered-- about him.
“Didn't she tell you? He's the slowest one out of all the other kids.”
"Linda didn't tell me that. She told me her son was simply a little behind.” He wasn't "a little behind." He just hated following the rules and doing what he was ordered to so he did the exact opposite on purpose. His grades were poor, his behavior was bad and his teacher’s couldn’t handle him. No one could, except for his grandfather.

"Frankie why don't you listen to mama and papa?"
"I don’t want to. They want me to do what they want and that’s boring!”
“They only want what any other mom and dad would want for their child Frank. The best.”
“But they want me to do what they want, not what I want. I want to play guitar and make music.”
“Ah so you like music eh?”
“Yeah but dad says I can’t get a guitar.”
“How about I get you it then? I want you to be happy and in order to be that you have to do whatever makes you feel that way.”

Frank never got his guitar. His grandpa died. He wasn’t exactly that old yet but he was sick, very sick and everyone had already known he wasn’t going to make it any farther. Frank felt like he was the only one who actually prayed and hoped his grandpa wouldn’t be taken away. He’d visit the hospital every day to check on his grandfather’s condition and when it started getting really worse, he stopped. After that, the horrible news came. “Son he didn’t make it.”

That same year, Frank turned thirteen and got his first taste of alcohol. He didn’t care for anything anymore. Not even music or a stupid guitar. He felt numb. He would never be able to see his grandpa again and that hurt. He would never be able to apologize for not being there on the old man’s last days and that hurt even worse.

---

“Do you want to keep talking about it Frank?” Gerard asked with sympathetic eyes.
Frank shook his head. “No I just had a dream with him the other night and I felt like I needed to talk about it y’know?”
Gerard nodded. “He seemed like a very kind hearted guy.. I know just how you feel. Me and Mikey, we lost our grandmother too.”
“Sorry for your loss.. It sucks ass right?”
“It does. Her name was Elena. She was my best friend and my second mom. She pushed me to make art, help others and I think your grandfather was the same too Frank. He’d want you to have made music, play guitar and most importantly be happy.”
Frank stood up. He didn’t know necessarily why but he did. Perhaps it was because he was ready to cry any second now and that was the last thing he really fucking wanted.
“Are you going?” Gerard got up just as quick.
“No I just don’t want to-“
“Cry? Because it’s okay too. Everyone does it.” The psychologist moved closer.
“No you know what let me just leave I don’t want to look so fucking pathetic.” Frank said heading towards the door until Gerard held him by the arm causing him to turn around.
“Cry Frank, you’ll feel better if you do. I’m not here to judge you.”
This was the last thing Frank had in mind or maybe the closest. He leaned forward into Gerard’s embrace and let the water fall from his eyes.

---

They ended up sitting on the couch with Frank’s head resting on Gerard’s shoulder and Gerard stroking the younger boy's hair lightly.
“How do you feel now?” The psychologist asked softly.
“Like shit but I guessed it helped.” Frank said sitting up rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
Gerard smiled. “See? I told you it was okay.”
“Yeah but I felt like a fucking girl.”
“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, trust me.”
“Why should I?”
“There are much more worser things than a man crying. When you get older you’ll stop being naive.”
And that was the end of their session.

---

Sometime after his grandfather’s death, his dad got him a guitar in hopes that it would be the solution to all of his son’s misconduct. Frank barely touched the piece of wood. He had no intention of ever playing it and the object somehow made its way up in to the abandoned attic. After a long while of thinking he decided to head up to the old room.

There it was in the same corner it was left in. Frank dusted off the guitar before bringing it back downstairs to his room. By now he was sure he’d forgotten a lot of things so he simply tested out a few chords. He was a bit out of tune but practice was all it took to get better.

A knock on the door interrupted him from the piece of a black flag song he was already trying to learn just by memory.
“Come in.” He called out.
It was his mother. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start playing that thing and dinners ready. Your father’s home early so we’re eating together tonight.”
“I’m gonna learn how to play good whether you and dad like it or not, oh and I’m not hungry.” Frank said meeting his mother eyes confidently.
“How are your visits with Dr. Way going then?”
Frank smiled to himself inwardly because his mother had changed the topic meaning he’d won the small battle. “They’re going pretty well, I like Gerar—I mean Dr. Way a lot.”

Notes

Hi guys, this was not what I had originally intended to write but I had so much trouble coming up with something good for it so I ended up/decided to introduce Franks past a little instead. I'm sorry I couldn't do better. :(

Anyways much love to you guys, hope you're all well.♥