Heart-Shaped Box (Frerard)

Apparently coming home stoned out of your mind with cuts on your wrist and hickeys lining your neck is a great way to get your brother and your boyfriend to monitor your every movement. Which totally sucked, by the way. What sucked even more was Frank's doe eyes glancing over at me laced with concern and hurt and I couldn't do anything. I mean, I could tell him what I've been doing for the last month and a half but I didn't want to hurt him I didn't want to. I love him. I know, I know, "if you loved him so much why would you go for someone else?" Well, I'm not sure. I just...I needed someone who understood, who had experience. Frankie was kind and gentle and tarnishing him with my worries...I'd never forgive myself. Frank needs his childlikeness.
"Gee...you can talk to me." Frank murmured quietly, causing me to briefly look up from my phone before shrugging and glancing back down at it. I wasn't even doing anything remotely important, I just couldn't bear to see the hurt look on Frank's face.I didn't want his or Mikey's help. I appreciated it, but I did not want it. I loved them both dearly, but I needed to work this out in my head before I could talk to them. I also knew that if I talked to them I wouldn't be able to stop. Everything would spill out and I didn't want that. I just wanted to be held by Frankie and I wanted to tell him everything was fine and mean it. Nonetheless, I just scrolled through my Twitter.
"Gee.." Frank sighed. "This isn't helping." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully styled black locks.
"I know." I huffed, throwing my phone on the bed and crossing my arms. "So, talk to me oh wise one."
"You're the one who should be talking." Frank muttered, looking down at me. He was on the bed and I was wallowing on the floor.
"What, I'm not aloud to ask my boyfriend how he's holding up?" I sneered and in that instant I hated myself. He was trying to help me and I being a bitch about it.
"Not when you're sitting on the floor of your bedroom feeling sorry for yourself!" Frank snapped and in a split second I knew I had gone too far. Frank never raises his voice. "You're hurting us, Gerard! Mikey can barely look at you without thinking he fucked up so insanely bad, and hell, you don't have to comfort him! We're left in the dark, Gerard." Frank was off the bed now, standing taller than me, while I was sitting on the floor, my heart aching more than ever. "We don't know if it's a phase, or something that's hurting you, or something we did. We knew you were unhappily long before you starting doing drugs, both Mikey and I could tell that but we didn't say anything because we love you! You're strong and we thought you could handle it. Obviously we were wrong." Frank took a deep breath, looking anywhere but me.
"Frankie.." I whispered, tears slowly streaming down my face. I fucked up. Badly.
"No, Gerard. You don't get to say anything." Right then Frank met my eyes and I could see the pain and anger. He was furious with me. I hurt him more than I would have if I ever told him.
"But, I-"
"Fuck you, Gerard Way." Frank spat with more anger than Gerard thought the small boy could muster and turned on his heel. "Not like anyone would want to." He added quietly as he slammed my bedroom door behind him. My head was buried in my hands and my elbows rested on my knees. Why was this so goddamn hard? Why couldn't I just have Frankie and Mikey like before?

Notes

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