Forget About The Dirty Looks.

Frank's POV
I'm silent for a while after he finishes, the lump in my throat not allowing me to speak. I have the biggest smile on my face, though, and I'm staring at him with awe in my eyes. He wrote that for me? It's such a beautiful song, but he must have been in a pretty bad shape when he wrote it. The lyrics are so sad, but they're loving and uplifting at the same time. They aren't the bitter kind of sad, they're the mournful kind of sad.
I finally swallow the lump down and can speak. I don't know what to say, though, and stutter for a minute, trying to figure out how to speak again in my head.
"That.. I.. Wow.." I shake my head, as if that would help clear my thoughts.
"That would sound better with a few guitars, bass and maybe a drum beat going on in there..." I immediately curse myself, knowing it was the wrong thing to say to somebody that just sung you a beautiful song.
"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to say that... I don't actually know what I was going to say, but it definitely wasn't that..." I glance at Gerard, his shoulders are shaking. Is he crying?
"Gerard? Are you.. crying?" My voice is incredulous, like the very idea of Gerard crying is preposterous. I hear a sound from him and it almost sounds like the gargle water makes when it runs down the drain.
"No, Frankie..." He looks up, and he has tears in his eyes, his face is red and his mouth is curled up into a smile. He wipes the moisture from under his eyes, sighing happily.
"I don't know what happened, that comment just made me really laugh." He chuckles again.
"It would sound better with instruments backing it, but this was all I could come up with at such short notice, Your Highness." He smirks at me, but then it falters a bit. "Besides, my favorite guitarist was... otherwise impaired.." He says the words like they're poison, and I reach out to grab his hand.
"I'm back now, though. Give me a few months and hopefully I'll be back to jamming with you guys in your attic.." He pats my hand with his other hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing it. "Who says I was talking about you? I might be talking about Ray... You never know.."
"Talking about me? Why?" I hear Ray's happy voice booming into the room, and then I see his giant hair. He really needs to have a haircut...
"Ray! Man, have I missed you!" He strides over and attacks me into a bear hug. We hug for a second, then he drops something wrapped in bright pink paper on my lap.
"I.. missed you, too, Frank. It wasn't the same around here without you, I hope you know that. Gerard didn't come out of his room, me and Mikey didn't even listen to music once. We all felt.. kind of.. off?" He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks going faintly red. I nod and look at the little package on my lap.
"Sorry about the paper, it was the only color we had..." I chuckle and shake my head, starting to open it. He's put, like, a whole roll of sticky tape on it, and it's almost impossible to open, especially with my mangled fingers. Gerard sees that I'm struggling and gently takes it off me, trying to open it himself. He can't and looks around for something to help him open it. Ray then pulls a pair of scissors out of his pocket and hands them to Gerard.
"Why have you got scissors in your pocket, Ray?" He shrugs, nonchalantly, and cracks his knuckles.
"Never know when you might need them.. They've helped me out a few times.." Me and Gerard share a look and start to laugh together quietly. Gerard uses the scissors to cut off the sellotape and the package starts to open. Once it's fully open it drops onto Gerard's leg. They're guitar strings. Guitar strings? Mine are perfectly okay at home, why would I need new ones?
"Guitar strings? Why...?" Ray's face lights up in a smile.
"Because of this..." He runs out, leaving me and Gerard confused, staring after him. We hear hushed voices in the hallway and then Ray and Mikey stroll in, carrying a wrapped-in-pink box. Now I'm really confused and with one, short glance at Gerard, I can tell he is too.
"Taa-daa!" They place the box on my bed and step back. I stare at the box, trying to guess what it may be. One of the others coughs impatiently, and I start to unwrap it. My clumsy, bandaged fingers find it difficult, but I manage. When all of the wrapping paper is off, I finally look at the box itself. It's just a normal, white, cardboard box. Ray sighs and pulls out a pocket knife. He rips into the top, cutting the tape and leaving the flaps ajar. I struggle to reach the opening, and with some difficulty, manage to reach.
Inside the box, is a familiar shaped case. Guitar shaped. I grin and look at the two boys that must have bought me it. I lift it out and sit back down again, placing it on my lap. I open it, and in it is a fucking beautiful guitar. Pansy is just a plain white, but this one has several colors on it. It's almost in a tie-dye pattern, but it looks better than tie-dye. It's one of the guitars I was looking at in the small music store that's in town, when me and Gerard went and looked at the graffiti place. It was easily my favorite one, but I don't know how Ray and Mikey know.
"Happy Birthday!" Mikey, Ray and Gerard shout it out to me in unison, their voices gleeful. It's Halloween already? God, I'm eighteen, and I didn't even know. The surprise must show on my face, and they laugh at me.
"Did you seriously forget your own birthday, Frank? Happy eighteenth! Hope you like your present! This is from me and Mikey. Gerar-" Gerard cuts him off with a fake coughing fit. Mikey slaps him across the back of his head, playfully. I think they've made friends, I hope so.
"I'm saving my present for when you get out of hospital, Frankie. I do have a little something for you now, though. I bought it ages ago, y'know when I showed you my 'Happy Place'?" I nod, thinking back to if I see him buy anything. Mikey reaches into a bag that has suddenly appeared and hands me a quite big, square, wrapped, thin present. Gerard's present isn't in pink wrapping paper, just plain blue. And it's much easier to open.
Inside, there is a Green Day record. A limited edition Dookie one. The exact same one I picked up in the shop. I smile real big and pull Gerard into a hug. I'm lucky he wasn't still sat in the chair and that he'd moved to sit on the bed next to my thigh, otherwise I might've fell off. I murmur a thank you to him and gives him a kiss.
We forget that Mikey and Ray are standing there, and because of the Morphine coursing around my body, I can put my entire force into the kiss. I cling to him, and he slides his arms around my waist, kissing back with equal force. I part my lips and Gerard's tongue slides in.
"Eww! Stop it, guys! I can't unsee this, y'know! Yuck..." Mikey's voice brings us back to the present, and we both blush. Mikey has his hands over his eyes and Ray is bent over, laughing at us all.
"Can I uncover my eyes now?" Ray stutters out a yes and Mikey cautiously peeks through his slightly open fingers. He sees we're not doing anything and relaxes his shoulders, and he smirks at us, putting his hands into his pockets.
"Guys, next time give us some warning. I'm innocent, and I don't want to be seeing that..." He laughs at our embarrassment, shaking his head. Soon enough, we're all laughing.
We talk for the next half an hour, catching up on everything that's happened. They mostly talk about school and shit, I don't say much, not wanting to relive my experiences. Donna walks in, with a birthday cake in her hands. It has eighteen lit candles on it, and it says 'Happy Birthday, Frank!' in green frosting. The cake itself, is chocolate, and it has chocolate frosting covering it. Everybody starts singing, and I laugh. Donna gives the cake to Mikey, and pulls her camera out. I blow out the candles, not bothering with a wish, because right now, I'm pretty content.
She starts taking pictures, making us all pose for different shots.
"Your first birthday as a member of the Way family!" Donna is nearly crying, and her words confuse me.
"What do you mean?"
"Me and your mom talked quite a lot before she.. passed, Frank. She said that if anything did happen to her, that we look after you. You're too old to be adopted by me, but, you can still be part of the family, if you like?" My mom. I haven't thought about her more than once. She fucking died in front of me, and I haven't spared her a fucking thought. I don't even know when her funeral is. I nod at Donna, consumed with thoughts of my mother.
"When's her funeral?" My voice breaks slightly, but nobody comments. All I can see now is when she mouthed 'I love you' to me for the last time. How she crumpled down, dead, with blood spreading in a twisted halo around her head. The absolute grief I felt wash through me when I heard the gunshot. How I murdered my dad, stabbing him to death with a knife. I see Donna's mouth moving, but I can't hear a thing. All I can hear is her pleas for mercy. The way she screamed while my dad was in the room with her, torturing her. Or when she used to sing to me after I had a nightmare.
I'll never get to see her again, I'll never get to hear her voice again. This kills me. A weight pushes down on my chest, threatening to crush me. I'll never see her again. I'll never speak to her again. I'll never see her laugh, drive a car, walk, never again. I feel so guilty, she gave her life to protect me, and I repay her like this? I haven't thought about her, all I've thought about is Me, Myself and I.
I feel a wetness on my cheeks, and that brings me to my senses again. I'm letting out horrible, choking noises. I sound like I'm drowning. Well, I am. I'm drowning in sorrow. I'm lying down, my hands pressed to my chest, my fingertips reaching the hollow of my neck, trying to relieve the pressure that's crushing me. I'm tense all over, and, even through all the fucking morphine I have in me, it still fucking hurts. I can see Gerard out of my peripheral vision, and his features are slack, his mouth wide open. He's shocked at my sudden change in mood, change in everything, probably.
I hear a fast, annoying beep. What the fuck is it? My heart rate monitor, it must be going off the scales. I can hear the pounding in my ears, I can feel it, so the monitor must be able to. I'm very suddenly aware of the aching in my lungs. I'm also very aware that no oxygen is traveling to them, thus causing the ache. A nurse runs in, and grabs something off the side. An oxygen mask. She lifts my head up and slips it over my face. I try to breathe, I really do. I feel a sharp pain in one of the patches of uncovered skin, and all of a sudden breath rushes back into me. I gasp for air, taking gulps of it.
I struggle to sit up, but one of the nurses pushes me back down, not allowing me to. I start to lash out, trying to sit up. It's suddenly become a necessity that I fucking sit up, and I don't know why. I start to panic again, feeling overly claustrophobic. Something holds down my arm and I feel a pricks. Within seconds, my eyelids start to close, and I'm suddenly thrust into a dark place. I fall into a very heavy sleep, and the last thing I hear is somebody crying.

Notes

New chapter. I hope you like it...
Okay, so there's this girl at school, let's call her.. Charlotte.
She's really fucking pissing me off at the minute. She self-harms, but I don't have a problem with the, Id' be a hypocrite if I did. She self-harms, yet she jokes about it, and she laughs when others joke about it. I find jokes about it pretty fucking disgusting, but she doesn't.
She has scars on her wrists and thighs. She doesn't care who sees them, like in class the other day, she has fucking half-healed cuts on her arm, but she had her sleeves rolled up. In PE, when we get changed, she stands there, letting anybody see the scars on her wrists and thighs. She's also apparently suicidal, yet she tells random people in the hallways to 'go die' and to kill themselves. She's supposed to be one of my best friends, but I've learnt everything about this from other people who she told, like my actual best friend. She's really open about everything, too. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but sometimes she boasts about it, she almost kind of jokes about it, and it makes me really mad.
This isn't really her fault, it's more our fucked-up health system, but her dad found out about everything, and he took her to the doctor's to see what's wrong with her. She's now getting counseling. It's great that she's getting help, but sometimes I feel like she's faking everything for attention.
My mum found out about my scars and shit, we went to the doctor's. He said he'd get me appointments with the therapist, and that they'd help, but I got a letter in the post around a week later, saying that I have nothing wrong with me, and that I should go talk to my 'school nurse'.
I don't want school finding out about this, why would you? They don't help people, all they do is ask you if you're okay and follow you around, pull you out of lessons, and then they tell every single teacher in the fucking school. I don't want them knowing about my feelings and stuff, I haven't even told my best friend about the full extent of everything. I guess I'm ashamed of myself, I feel weak. I don't want other people knowing that.
Anyway, I got told that she get's to go see a therapist today, that's why I'm ranting about it. Sorry you had to read this...
I hope you like the chapter, and the story so far. It's on the first page for the most popular stories, so I thank you very fucking much for that!xo

P.s, Frank's new guitar...