I woke up in an unfamiliar room, still wearing the clothes I’d picked out yesterday. I blinked, panicked, but then the events of yesterday slowly slipped back to me, and I managed to calm my pulse. Its okay, I’m okay. I gradually remembered the details, how this Frank dude had taken me to his house without a word, led me into his spare room, and left me to it. How I’d fallen, exhausted, onto the bed, and slept without any concerns over the fact that I was in in a stranger’s house and had no idea where said house actually was. Those worries hit me full force now, though. I had no idea who this guy was - he could be some twisted sadistic freak for all I knew. Hell, he could be a doctor. That thought was enough to propel me out of the bed and out of the room, running my hands through my hair as I did so. I found myself at the top of a flight of stairs, which I cautiously descended. The house was small and very clean, I noted. I caught the smell of cooking coming from what I assumed was the kitchen. Pancakes? This calmed me slightly. Psychotic evil maniacs tend not to cook pancakes. I pushed open the door, hoping to be discreet, but that was kinda killed by the immense squeak of the hinges. Frank turned and looked at me, crumpled and scared in the doorway. I wrapped my arms around myself protectively, probably making me look like a frightened schoolgirl. How pathetic. Frank smiled at me reassuringly, and motioned for me to sit and his kitchen table. I hesitated, but slid into a chair. He dumped a plate of pancakes in front of me, and then took the seat opposite. He watched me in a way that made me feel self-conscious, as I picked up a fork and ate a tiny bite. He was a good cook, I couldn’t deny that. I swallowed the mouthful, wondering too late at the possibility of poisoned pancakes. Man, I didn’t want that on my gravestone. Oops. I put the fork down and looked at him. He raised an eyebrow, and motioned for me to keep eating. I shook my head. “Who are you?” I asked. The eyebrow rose further. “I told you, my name’s Frank. Frank Iero.” He stuck out a hand for me to shake. I studied it for a moment, before reaching over and taking it. I looked at the table awkwardly for a moment. “So, do I get to know your name?” he asked. I ignored his question and asked another. “Why did you bring me here last night?” I realized too late that I sounded demanding and a little paranoid. I’m not paranoid, or course, just careful. Paranoia is something the doctors like to talk about. I’m nothing like that. Frank sighed, and said, “You looked really upset last night, and you obviously needed a place to stay the night. So I let you stay here. Why are you being so weird about it?” I flinched at the word ‘weird’. I didn’t like being called that. I studied Frank, about to say something about his description of me, but I held it back when I saw his face. He looked very genuine, as he cared about my welfare, and a little hurt by my evident suspicion. He reminded me vaguely of a kicked puppy. I sighed, and said, “I’m sorry, I just… Had a rough night, I guess. I kinda… fell out with my parents and ended up in that stupid club.” I didn’t tell him the details of our ‘falling out’, still very conscious of his reaction to my completely fabricated medical record. He nodded. “It’s okay, dude, I get it. I got kicked out by my parents two years ago. That’s why I helped you, I guess. Been there, done that, worn the goddamn t-shirt.” He sighed, eyes on the table. Again we fell into an awkward silence. I slowly picked up the fork and had another bite of the pancakes, earning a cute smile. No, dammit, ignore the cute! He interrupted my little inner dilemma when he asked, “So, what happened with your family?” I looked up at him but didn’t say anything, afraid of what he would say and do. After about two minutes of staring, he frowned and said, “Okay, it’s cool, don’t tell me. I understand.” I looked down. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “It’s just… hard to talk about.” His face softened and he nodded and smiled understandingly. I looked at him again, examining him. I was suddenly curious as to why his parents had dumped him out. He was cute and kind-hearted, why could they possibly disown him? I didn’t want to ask, though. Turned out I didn’t have to; he laughed and said, “I know you want to ask. I got kicked out because I came out of the closet, and they didn’t want a son who likes dudes, I guess. So I moved around, worked a lot, and eventually managed to buy this place with a friend. We lived together for a while, and then he met a girl and got hitched, so I got the house to myself. That’s all, really.” He laughed a little, and got up to clean the mess he’d made during the pancake construction. I remained at the table, nibbling at my breakfast, and trying to squash the teensy spark of hope I'd felt at his sexuality.

Notes

Bonding over pancakes... N'aww. Oh, and I may owe some of you an apology. I realized today, that I haven't made some stuff clear in this story. My friend read it and got awfully confuzzed. So, let me clear up. Gerard DOES have a mental disorder, he's just in a kind of denial. So he even though he tries to brush everything off as fake, he really does experience hallucinations etc. sorry if I didn't make that clear. Paranoia Violence out xø