Memories

The buzz of Frank's alarm echoed through his confined bedroom and pounded in his eardrums, waking him with a start. Sighing tiredly, he managed to free an arm from the tangled blankets and sheets that Frank had piled onto his bed last night for some form of barrier against the harsh winter night and bashed the top of his alarm clock with his hand.

It took him a few tries to find the button with his eyes closed, but eventually he managed to turn off the nasally noise the alarm was making by knocking it off the bedside table. Jumping at the noise of it colliding with the wooden floor, he sat up quickly - too quickly - causing the blood to rush from his head. He sat, dazed for a few seconds, before peering over his bed to see the clock, crumbled on the floor. That was possibly the third one he'd been through in the past two months.

"Frank, was that another alarm clock?" his mother, Linda, called from the bottom of the stairs.

Frank managed to un-attach the bedsheets from his body and stumbled across his bedroom, catching his balance on the handle of his door before opening it and stepping out, peering over the banister to see his mom. He smiled sheepishly at her, to which she muttered a sarcastic "of course," under her breath. Frank looked at her apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled slightly. "Now hurry. School starts in an hour, and I have to go into work early which means I can't drive you today."

Frank's eyes widened at the thought of having to walk almost ten blocks, early in the morning, by himself...

"I'm sorry," Linda apologized when she took in Frank's horrified expression. He simply nodded slowly and turned towards his bedroom again.

Frank closed his door behind him, letting out a quiet sigh as he rested his bare back on the cool wooden surface. He rubbed his eyes roughly and yawned, before pulling down his pants and tugging on a pair of clean boxers and walking across the hall to the bathroom to freshen up.

Once his teeth were clean and his face scrubbed, he walked lazily back to his bedroom, picked up the jeans he wore the previous day and found a plain black t-shirt on the floor to slip on.

"Morning honey," Linda kissed the top of Frank's head as he sat down at the dining room table and began munching on the toast his mom had set out for him. "I've gotta get to work now, but promise me you'll go to school."

Frank nodded with his head down.

Linda sighed. "I wish you'd talk to me, Frankie," she mumbled. As she was about to walk away, Frank reached out and took her hand. She stopped and looked at Frank's pleading eyes.

"I know," she smiled, sadly. "Have a good day at school," she said, squeezing Frank's hand and setting off to her car.

Frank reluctantly picked up his school bag and headed for the front door. He stopped as his hand touched the door handle and he scrunched up his face.

Maybe I should stay off school, he thought to himself.

No, I promised I'd go.

Frank slowly opened the door and peeked his head around, looking out for jocks or bimbos. He couldn't see any, so he took a step out and turned to lock the door behind him.

Walking down his street, Frank's head turned in every direction, silently hoping to see Mikey. Mikey Way had been his best friend since he was seven. Ten years later, and they were still as close as ever.

"Is that you, Frank?" Mikey's voice could be heard from behind him. Frank turned around slowly, to see him running towards him, knees turned inward. Frank smiled slightly and raised a hand to wave.

"Why are you walking?" Mikey asked when he reached Frank, panting in between words.

Frank looked at him awkwardly, as if trying to pass on some telepathic message.

"Oh," Mikey sighed, pulling his backpack from his shoulder and unzipping it to reveal a hand-held whiteboard and a black marker pen. Frank looked at Mikey questioningly.

"I was going through so much paper trying to hold a conversation with you that I got my mom to go out and buy this." Mikey smirked at Frank who blushed slightly.

He mouthed a 'thank you.'

"No problem," Mikey replied, handing them over to Frank.

Frank scribbled down, 'My mom had to work early, so she told me I had to walk.'

"Well, you get to walk with me, it's not all bad," Mikey joked, nudging him in the ribs. Frank cringed away slightly, but tried to hide it.

"Frank?" Mikey spoke after a few minutes of silent walking. Frank looked Mikey in the eye to show he had his full attention.

"Why won't you...uh, why don't you talk, anymore?"

Frank had to look away as the tears started to form in his hazel-green eyes.

"Shit. Uh, Frank, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Mikey apologized sincerely.

'It's okay,' Frank mouthed to Mikey and he smiled.

"Hey! Guess what?" Mikey bellowed, causing Frank to stumble a bit. "Do you remember Gerard?"

Frank shook his head.

"You know, dark hair, kinda long, brown eyes, he's a few years older."

Frank paused for a few seconds.

"He's my brother...?" Mikey added.

Suddenly, Frank's eyes grew wide, and his cheeks became a plumb pink. He tried to hide it by brushing it off with a shrug and pulling his hood over his head. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard Mikey giggle next to him.

You see, Gerard was four years older than Frank, which made Gerard 21. He hadn't seen him for a good seven years. When Frank and Mikey were ten, they used to play out in the garden, and Gerard would always be there. Not there, but he'd be in the background somewhere, watching Frank.

Gerard was the typical, fourteen year old, comic book addicted hermit. His bedroom was at the back of the house, facing out into his back garden where Frank and Mikey would run around.
Whenever Frank used to catch Gerard starring, Gerard would blush and look down or away, and sometimes even close the curtains slightly. Frank didn't know what to think of that when he was ten, but now that Mikey had reminded him of Gerard, all of those memories came flooding back and he couldn't help but feel flattered.

Mikey raised an eyebrow at Frank, but carried on.

"Well, he's coming back!" Mikey squealed, jumping up and down slightly.

Frank took the lid off the marker pen and scribbled, 'Where did he go?' quickly on the whiteboard before showing it to him.

"He went to an art school somewhere outside of Jersey."

'When he was 14?'

"He's really talented. After art school, he went to college. It didn't work out for him though, so he's coming back."

'Oh,' Frank mouthed. 'He's 21, isn't he?' he scribbled down again.

"Yup," Mikey popped the 'p'.

The rest of the walk to school was silent, and as they walked through the steps into the busy hallways, Frank felt as sick as he usually did when people touched him, or pushed past him. He could feel a panic attack coming on when he was physically moved out of the way, and wound up locking himself in the boys' bathrooms for the first half of school.

"Where did you go?" Mikey frowned at Frank when he found him sat on the floor outside of his locker at lunch. Frank shrugged and looked down.

"Frank..." Mikey sighed. "What happened to you?"

Frank inhaled sharply. Was Mikey really going to make him relive all of it? Even if he had no clue how horrifying it was, he could obviously tell it was hurting him when he was asked about it. By the way Frank saw him standing expectantly, he realized he was going to have to let him know something.

Mikey looked at Frank carefully and handed him his whiteboard and marker.

Frank took them hesitantly and popped the lid off the marker.

He could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he began to write three words down on the whiteboard.

He started to shake with every letter, and eventually it looked like it had been scribbled.

There were tears running down the board and Frank let out a soft sob before burying his face into his hands, not wanting to see Mikey's reaction.

He could feel his heart aching and his chest felt tight as his breathing hitched in his throat when Mikey reached over to take the board out of his hand.

'I was raped.'

Notes