Frankie's Suicide (Frerard)

My psychiatrist is Dr. Collins. She seems nice enough. I’d say shes in her mid to late 40’s, a brown bob of hair atop a slightly pudgy frame. Shes been asking me questions for the past 20 minutes but so far, I haven’t said a word to her.It’s the same crap as with George, asking me about school, friends, my childhood, my home life etc etc.
“So Frank, you’re file tells me that you were taken in an ambulance to hospital at approximately 2:38am Wednesday morning with self-inflicted lacerations to your wrists. You were unconscious upon arrival and required a 1.4L blood transfusion.” She says, reading from my medical file. “Care to tell me about that?”
I stared blankly at her
“Why’d you do it, Frank?”
After several minutes of silence and a stare down, she sighs and tells me, “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t assess you properly and you won’t get the proper help you need”
I don’t need help. I’m not going to get any better. I just want the out of here.
More silence.
“I’m putting you in the west wing. Your room will be close to the nurses station to start with and depending on your behaviour, you’ll be moved to a more permanent room later on. Any questions?”
Silence
“Didn’t think so, I’ll tell the nurses where you’re staying. Make your way down and they’ll show you to your room” she says while scribbling in my file.



A bed. A bedside table. A chest of drawers and a barred-up window. Right next to the nurses station. Fantastic. The window wont open and there is no way I’d be able to get through the bars anyway. Looks like I’m not getting out that way.
One of the nurses had told me dinner was at 5:30 and seeing as it was 5:42, I made my way to the cafeteria. I kept my head down and got my food, some weird stew, and found an empty table at the back of the room. I’m not even hungry. I might puke if I eat anything. I watch the people in the cafeteria and realise the majority of them aren’t that bad, at least they don’t seem too insane. I turn my eyes back to the food in front of me and begin to pick at it with my fork.
“That was quite a show you put on earlier” a cheery voice says, startling me.
I look up and my heart stops. The man standing in front of has light brown eyes that are staring into my own hazel/green ones. He has slightly small features, his nose is a tiny bit up-turned and his long red hair is stunning. His eyes locked onto me with a small sideways smirk on his face. If there was such a thing as a perfect person, he was it. He is just so…so… beautiful. Wait, what am I - no, I can appreciate a mans beauty when I see it, that doesn’t make me gay.
“Mind if I sit?” he asks, motioning toward the chair opposite from me
“Uhh s-sure” God I’m an idiot, he probably thinks I have a permanent stutter.
“I’m Gerard” I’ve never heard that name before but it suits him.
“Frank” is all I can manage to say
“What brings you to the nut-house, Frankie?” The last person that called me Frankie ended up with a broken rib but… when Gerard said it, it sent butterflies to my stomach.
“Uh, no, I don’t actually belong here-“
“None of us do, Frankie” he interrupted, giving me a wink. Oh god. Is he flirting? “How old are you?”
“18” I murmur
“You look younger. I’m 22 by the way. Are you always this quiet? Or is it just around us mental patients?”
“What? No, no, its not.. its just.. I don’t know, I’m just too sad to talk most of the time”
“Why are you so sad, Frankie” he asked gently, looking genuinely concerned with his eyebrows all furrowed, how cute.
I let out a long sigh and replied “Why does the earth turn?”
He nods knowingly and suggests “How about you come sit with me and my friends tomorrow at breakfast? We sit by the window over there” pointing to the other side of the room.
“Yeah, that would be nice” I manage to say without screwing up.

Notes

Sorry about the short chapter, it feels like ive been working on if forever but ive had really bad writers block
Dont for get to subscribe, comment and all that jazz
Title credit: The World Is Ugly

March on MCRmy <4