FRANK'S P.O.V.

I stared at the healing bruises given to me by my mom last week. My gaze went from the black-blue-yellow clusters on my chest and stomach and to my arms. Red scars littered my wrists, going in all directions. You're disgusting, I thought to myself, you promised Gerard you would stop.

Gerard.

His name made my heart rate go crazy, but my eyes began to tear up.

I haven't seen him since last week, since when I had to leave early after Jamia called me. He hasn't responded to any of my texts or calls. Whenever I go to his house, the lights are off and the curtains drawn. I don't know any of his friends' numbers, so I can't talk to them. What did I do? Did I say the wrong thing? I constantly thought the events of that day through, trying to figure out what I had done to make him suddenly ignore me. Why? Just, why--

"I want to be with you forever. I want to grow old with you. Can we stay like this forever?"
His shaky reply of, "... o-of course."

That's what I had done. I scared him. Frank, what did you do? You find someone who you think loves you and you get attached. And then you scare them away. "THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS!" I yell, beginning to sob. I stumbled over, onto the tiled bathroom floor.

I knew I was a burden.

I always was.

---

GERARD'S P.O.V.

"You can't make me do this!" I yelled at my mom.
"Technically, I CAN!" she screeched back.
"LINDSEY IS MY PSYCHOLOGIST, SHE CAN HELP ME." Not that I even need any help. They think I'm sick and deformed because I happen to like the same gender as my own. "I'M NOT GOING TO SEE SOME ANTI-GAY 'PSYCHIATRIST' BECAUSE YOU THINK IT'S BETTER."
"Gerard, you need this."
"I need someone to brainwash me and tell me everything about my life is wrong?!" I was absolutely done with my parents. They didn't let me talk to Frank at all, let alone leave the house. They took away mine and Mikey's phones, we weren't allowed to leave the house, and if anyone came over we weren't allowed to answer the door. I constantly apologized to Mikey about his social life being cut off, but he tells me that it's fine, that he is disgusted by our parents' behaviors and thinks that if I am punished, he should be too. Mikey is really the greatest brother anyone could ever ask for. I'm so grateful for him. Anyways, now my parents were forcing me to see another psychologist. I know it's one of the anti-gay ones that try to convince you your sexuality is wrong. I sighed as Mom dragged me to her car, forcing me in the passenger seat.

---

I was tapping my foot on the linoleum floor outside the psychologist's office. I knew what was going to come from this. The kid sitting next to me apparently knew too, since he was constantly looking around in fear, his eyes wide. He was shaking. Surprisingly, I worked up the nerve to talk to him. "Are you okay?" I asked him.
"M-My parents forced me to come here," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "They-they-they found out, about my boyfriend, a-and..." He hugged his own arms, as if trying to comfort himself. I nodded.
"Same for me."
"Y-You're gay...?"
"Yeah. My boyfriend is named Frank. He's really wonderful, but my parents, they-- they found out about us. I haven't talked to him in a week." I stuck out my hand. "Gerard."
He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and shook my hand. "I'm B-Brendon. Sorry to hear about your boyfriend. Mine's named Ryan." He smiled at me. "I was just, surprised you're gay. You must have girls crawling all over you."
"Woah, we just met, no need to flirt." I laughed. Had I finally gotten over my anxiety? Just then, the door to the office swung open. Standing in the doorway was a balding, middle-aged mam in a suit, presumably the doctor.
"Brendon Urie?" the old man called. Brendon's head perked up, but his expression was that of fear.
"I, uh--" he started. "guess I-I'll see you around." I nodded in response. Brendon grudgingly shuffled over to the room, slamming the door behind him.
As much as I hate this, I'll do it.
For Frank.

---

Well okay, I tried to cooperate. Until the old man asked me when I decided to become gay. "Being gay was not a choice," I hissed at him, "you bigoted bastard."
"Mr..." he looked at his clipboard, "Way, please calm down."
"I'm not raising my voice, why do I have to calm down?" I snapped. Glad to see my sassiness remained when I was pissed.
"I don't want to have to send you home."
"I'd love to leave this shithole."
"Alright, that's enough." He stood up and grabbed my arm, forcing me up from the futon in his office. "Where is your mother?"
"Downstairs." He led me into the elevator, his grip on my wrist slowly tightening. We reached the bottom floor and the second he saw my mom, he pushed me towards her. "Mrs. Way, your son is completely uncooperative!"
My mom sighed. "I know, Mr. Tanner. I know."
"Well, maybe, Mom, if you didn't force me to come here, I would cooperate," I muttered.
"You will not speak to your mother like that!" she replied, her voice shrill. Suddenly, her palm hit my cheek, causing me to snap my head to the right. My cheek stung and I sucked in through my teeth. The grip on my wrist faltered as the psychiatrist let go and mom began dragging me to the car. "You good for nothing son," she muttered as I sat in the car. My only thought on the ride home was Frank. I hope he's okay.

Notes

everyone saying they like the story are gonna start hating me as the story goes on