~Few days earlier than the last chapter~

Frank sat up in his bed, breathing heavily. He brushed the damp hair off his sweaty face harshly and looked around his almost pitch black room. He looked at his clock to see it was three in the morning. He let out a long sigh and slumped forward, pushing his face into his hands. He finally steadied his breathing. Although he felt sick and had a thumping headache, he was glad to be awake and away from the nightmare he was having. It the same one he usually had. His dad leaving. But in Frank's nightmares, he always had the chance to stop his father from leaving. But however much the little boy begged, his father would shake his head and leave. He would wait on the door step, waiting for his dad to come back. But he never did. Frank would always wake up at the same point; the moment where his mother would scream and shout at him, blaming him for his father leaving. Frank always had this slight string of guilt inside him, he did blame himself a bit for his father leaving, though he didn't really know why. Possibly because when someone you love leaves you, you always jump to the conclusion that you must have been partly to blame. Frank shook the thoughts from his head and settled back down. He pulled his knees up to his chest so he was curled into a ball under his covers. His mind started to wander again. Maybe his mum knew where he was. Maybe he could find his father and ask him he left. Maybe answers will rid Frank of the awful night terrors. Frank finally agreed with himself to ask his mum where he was in the morning. He needed the answers.

~the morning~

Frank sat up sleepily and stretched his arms out above him, letting out a small yawn. He pushed himself out of bed and wandered downstairs to find his mum was already in the kitchen, making some coffee.
"Morning," she chirped when she saw her son. Frank smiled at her and grabbed one of the cups off the counter.
"Hey, mum.." he took a sip of coffee as his mum turned around and nodded at him.
"Can I ask you a question?" he leant against the counter, as did his mother, who nodded again.
"Uh- it's about dad.." he mumbled and noticed his mum tense a bit at his statement. She gave him a concerned look and opened her mouth to speak, but Frank quickly cut her off.
"Where is he? Like, I know he left but I mean, surly you know where he's gone?" he blinked at his mum, waiting for her to answer. She sighed and put her cup on the counter.
"Frankie, i'm sorry, I don't know where he is.." she practically whispered to her son. Frank placed his cup on the counter as well and pushed himself off it, stepping closer to his mum.
"Yes you do, I know you do! I saw a letter from him, to you! You have to know where he is," Frank started to raise his voice.
"Where did you see that? D-Did you read it?" his mum asked worriedly.
"N-No, of course I didn't read it! But I know you know where he is, just tell me? Please? I want to see him, I want at least write him a letter!" Frank tugged his hand through his knotted hair, not really understanding why his mum was against him wanting to his father.
"Frank, I said no" she shook her head and started to walk out the kitchen. Frank slammed his fist against the wall, causing her to jump and turn around to look at him.
"Mum, god damn it! Just fucking tell me where he is, why won't you let me see him? He's my father, I have to see him! Where is he, mum? Where? Where's my dad?!" Frank screamed at her, he felt tears sting his eyes as he begged his mum to tell him. Tears fell down her cheeks and she shook her head, opening her mouth. Her heart was thumping in her chest as nerves started to crawl inside her stomach. She had to tell him now.
"Frank, i'm so sorry... Frankie, sweetheart," she stepped closer to her son and grabbed his hand.
"He's gone.." she looked up at him and their eyes met.
"I know he's gone mum, that's why i'm asking where he is," his voice was quiet but still angry.
"H-He's... He's never coming back, sweetheart," his mum gulped, unable to say the word. Frank shook his head.
"Mum, what do you mean?" he frowned at her, realising what she was trying to say.
"Frank, i'm sorry.. your father's dead.." tears fell down her face more and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to avoid seeing the pain in her sons. Frank pulled his hand away from his mum, he stumbled back against the wall. His heart thumping furiously in his chest and a sickly pain feeling rose in his stomach. He started to breathe heavily, suddenly unable to get any oxygen in. He looked at the floor as he felt shock hit him like a ton of bricks.
"I'm sorry," his mum repeated over and over again. Frank shook his head.
"No, no, he's not, mum, no..." he covered his mouth with his hand, not knowing whether he was going to be sick or if he was just trying to stop himself from screaming.
"H-He never left us for someone else, Frankie.." his mother decided she might as well tell him the whole truth.
"W-What?" Frank's voice choked. He felt a lump in his throat, he swallowed harshly, trying to get rid of it.
"He was taken into hospital... I told you he left us because I knew he wasn't going to come out again.." she stared at the floor, suddenly feeling ashamed for lying to her son.
"Y-You lied to me...You lied to me!" Frank screamed and felt betrayed. How could his own mother do this to him?
"For ten years! Y-You kept it from me for ten years!" he watched his mother shake her head.
"I know! I know, i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry! I was waiting for the right moment to tell you," she murmured, feeling even more ashamed as she watched her son break down in front of her.
"It took you ten years.. I grew up hating that man! Oh god-" Frank felt the sick feeling rising even more.
"I hated my- my d-dead father for ten years" he whispered to himself, feeling disgusted.
"I hate you," his voice barely a whisper.
"W-What?" his mother looked up at him in shock.
"I said I hate you!" Frank slammed his fist against the wall and pushed past his mother.
"Frank, please! I'm sorry," she tried to grab his hand but he pulled away from her.
"How could you do this to me? How could you lie to me for ten years? How could you let me hate my father? You let me believe that he was some selfish man who wanted nothing to with us. You don't understand how sick you are..." Frank turned around and stormed up to his room. He fell onto his bed and buried his face into his pillow. He let tears stain the fabric. He cried and cried and cried and he couldn't stop himself, he didn't even bother trying to stop. There was no point. His father was gone, and there was no way of seeing him ever again. He never even got the chance to say goodbye.
A few hours later Frank pushed himself up, he looked at the time and realised he must've fallen asleep. His door was still closed and his room was now starting to get dark. Frank looked down at his drawers and yanked the top one open, he dug around for his tin and pulled it out once he found it. He pulled the blade out and stared at it. He loved the way the light hit it and it would reflect it. He loved how small and sharp it was, easy to hide and perfect to use. Frank took a sharp breath in as he slashed the blade across his arm. One...Two...Thee...Four times. He watched blood slowly escape from his body and run down his arm carefully. He sighed and grabbed a tissue from the box next to his bed and lazily rubbed it over the cuts, cleaning the small amount of blood away. He placed the blade back into the tin and threw it back into his drawer, which he then slammed shut. He closed his eyes and felt tears roll down his cheeks again. He felt empty and lost, knowing he was never going to see his dad again. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, almost as if his heart was quite literally breaking at the thought. He wandered how sick and twisted his mum must be to be able to keep this from her son for ten years.
"Ten fucking years," Frank murmured to himself. He fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He just felt nothing, but yet he felt so much pain and anger building up inside. He wanted to curl up and sleep forever, hiding away from the world, but yet at the same time he wanted to scream and cry as loudly as he could. But most of all, he just wanted Gerard. He wanted to feel safe in his arms, he wanted to burry his face into Gerard's chest. He wanted him to tell Frank it was going to alright. Because right then, Frank felt like his life would never be alright again.

Notes

S/O/R/R/Y SORRY SORRY SORRY?!!!
rate comment subscribe etc

thankyouxo

(again, sorry! And also, if their at any mistakes, forgive, it's late and i'm pretty tired and yeah, i'll fix 'em later okay thnku)