Before The Sun Goes Down

Frank's POV
“What the fuck are we going to do?” I stare at Gerard for a minute, my eyebrows raised at his question.
“What are we going to do? This your fault. If you'd have just fucking left me alone after almost fucking murdering me, this wouldn't have happened!” He takes a step back, his tired eyes flickering with surprise at my raised tone.
“Calm down. Shouting isn't going to help anybody, lest of all Mikey. He's going to wake up in a second,” He looks at Mikey, who is stirring. “And we need to sort this out. Whether it be from lying or telling him the truth, something needs to happen,” He goes from slightly unsure but determined, to desperate, all in one second. “Frank, he's my brother. I may not remember him all that well, but he's my flesh and blood. I don't have you any more, but I might be able to have him back.” I blow out some air, almost laughing at him.
“Whatever. We'll tell him both sides of the story, okay? I can guarantee he isn't going to like mine.” Gerard bites his lip, his shoulders drooping.
“Don't. Please, he's my brother.” Mikey groans, a hand lifting up and touching his face. Gerard looks at me desperately, his hands almost clasped together in a begging position. I just roll my eyes at him, in no mood for his pleading.
Mikey suddenly goes tense, he stops moving, and breathing. His eyes slowly open, and he searches around the room, deliberately missing where Gerard and I are standing. I step forward as Gerard shrinks back.
“Mikey?” I crouch down, my hand reaching for his shoulder.
“Frank?” I make a humming noise in response, Mikey finally locking eyes with me. His eyes glance behind me, and when they do, he looses all color in his complexion and closes his eyes.
“Well, shit.” His voice is shaky, but he tries to sit up anyway. I have to help him, otherwise I'm sure he probably would have passed out again.
“I know this is.. strange, but I need you to stay calm. You can do that for me, right?” He swallows, his eyes again tightly closed.
“I don't think I can, sorry, Frank. I can see the room spinning even though my eyes are closed. I think I'm going to pass out again, Frank.” I grip both of his shoulders, shaking him slightly.
“Mikey, look at me,” He opens his eyes, but they wander to behind me, where Gerard's standing. “Look at me,” I tap his cheeks, making him focus his eyes on me. When he does, I smile. It's tight, but I can feel him relax slightly under my grip. “Okay, think about something nice. Not about what's happening here. Tell me about something funny that's happened while I've been gone.” He swallows again, his eyes fixed on my face. I can feel him start to shake, so I give him another smile.
“I can't remember. Everything's blank, Frank.” He's shaking really badly now, and his face is even paler.
I twist my head back, trying to catch Gerard's attention without saying his name, because I think Mikey would really pass out again. He finally looks at me, his shoulders hunched over and his hands playing with each other.
“I need you to get him something sweet,” He makes no move, he just stares at me dumbly. “Like, now!” He snaps out of his stupor, running out of the room so fast that he's just a black blur. He's back within a minute, carrying a Mars Bar. I snatch it off him, trying my hardest to avoid touching him.
“Eat this, Mikey. It'll help.” He stares at it, his hand hovering in the air, shaking. I unwrap it and break some off, placing it in his hand and curling his fingers around it.
He shakily brings it to his mouth, biting the tiniest bite off and chewing it. I watch him do that until the bit is gone, then I break some more off, so half is gone.
“Better? Do you think you can stand up? This bedroom isn't the best place for any of this, really.” He thinks for a second, then nods, starting to stand up. I help him, ignoring Gerard as we walk out. Helping him is like trying to help a child take their first steps, it's fucking difficult.
“There we go. Do you want anything? A drink?” He shakes his head, biting his thumbnail. He's still shaking, but he isn't as pale.
I look at the couch, my nose curling us in disgust at the thought of even touching it. It's where the thing happened, after all. I sit on the coffee table instead, precariously sitting on the edge so it doesn't break. Gerard's stood in the doorway, staring at us with an emotionless look on his face.
“How do you feel, Mikes?” He looks at me, his eyes narrowing.
“I don't know. Sick. Really fucking confused. How the fuck am I supposed to feel after seeing that?” I sigh, shrugging.
“I don't know Mikey. I freaked when I first saw him, but I think it was because he was attacking me. I didn't really have any time to feel anything else but fright and panic.” An eyebrow raises, but I shrug it off, not wanting to be the one to tell him what his brother has been turned into.
“Shit...” He sighs, a shaky sigh, and starts to shake really bad again.
“Shit indeed, my friend.” This makes him chuckle, but it sounds extremely fake and forced.
“Stop fucking hovering and come and sit down, Gerard. You owe me an explanation,” He looks up, at me. “Well, so do you.” I nod, glancing at Gerard. I make a gesture for him to come and sit down, but he looks at the couch in disgust and just steps closer.
“Hey, Mikey.” Mikey finally puts his gaze onto Gerard, and immediately, tears fill his eyes.
“Is it really you?” Gerard nods, smiling sadly at Mikey.
“In the flesh.” Mikey covers his face with his hands, letting out a choked sob. Nobody says anything while he's like that, letting him compose himself in his own time.
“What should I do, Frank?” Gerard's voice appears in my head, desperately whispering, even though nobody can hear him. I shrug, not offering him a decent answer.
“Sorry, guys.” Mikey's face is tear stained, but he looks a whole lot more stable. Gerard and I shrug at the time, looking at him in apprehension.
“Are you sure I can't get you anything?” Mikey shakes his head, his eyes once again focused on Gerard.
“Did you even die? Did you just fucking disappear? No, that's not possible, you gave Frank a liver.. Didn't you?” He sounds so unsure, and his hands are shaking again.
“I did die, yes. But not for long, really. I'm not entirely as I used to be, Mikey. I've had to change.”
“In what way?” Gerard looks at me for help, but I shake my head once, making his shoulders droop.
“Um.. I.. Um...” I sigh, folding my arms.
“He's a vampire, Mikey.” I decide to just come out with it, making Gerard look at me witheringly.
“A.. what?”
“A blood-sucking being, not dead and not alive.” Mikey looks from me to Gerard, then back again.
“Is this true, Gerard?” Gerard nods, avoiding Mikey's face.
“But.. How?” I look at Gerard's face, and even though this is possibly the most serious conversation I've been in for the past year, I have to smile. He looks like a worm that's just realized that it's about to be preyed on by a bird. He's squirming, and it's hilarious.
I swallow down half of the slightly hysterical laugh that want to follow my smile, but some of it escapes, earning me almost identical looking glares from both of the brothers.
“Sorry, sorry. I don't cope well with things like this, sorry.” I stand up, still trying to contain the laughter, and walk into the kitchen, my body shaking with silent laughter. I'm not even sure why I'm laughing, I mean, surely Gerard's face couldn't have been that funny?
I imagine it again, sending another round of hysterics that I have to try to keep silent. To distract myself, I get out three mugs, one for each of us, and spoon some instant coffee in them. I boil the kettle, focusing on the steam rising out of the spout to calm myself.
I carry in two of the mugs, calmed down, and give them to Gerard and Mikey, who are sat together on the couch- the one that Gerard despises oh-so-much, and walk back into the kitchen, grabbing the packet of cigarettes off the dining table. I light one, sipping my boiling coffee.
Taking deep drags, I notice that Mikey isn't the only one shaking. The coffee has spilled over the boundaries of the mug, the boiling liquid falling on my hands without me realizing. I make no move to wipe it off, only stare at the red marks on my hands, remembering my injuries after I'd woken up from that night.
My cigarette goes out, the ash falling off it and onto the floor, but I don't notice it, I just continue to stare at my hands until the marks fade. I thought that maybe I was getting over it, slowly but surely, but it all has just come crashing down on me that I'm not, and from this point on, I think things will take a turn for the worse. I'm not sure how I know, only that there's a feeling in my gut.
I don't realizing that I'm crying, either, until a tear drop lands right by where I'm staring, crystalline and clear. It snaps me out of whatever it is that I'm in, and I bring the cigarette to my mouth, finding it un-lit again. I try to light it again using my hand that's holding the coffee mug, but I fail miserably and make the lighter and mug fall to the floor, making coffee splash up everywhere, including my jeans, and the white fucking laces of my black Converse.
I ask myself, why the fuck did I have to lace them up with white fucking laces? I don't even like the color.
The mug smashes, the shards of the ceramic going everywhere, and the shitty plastic of the shitty lighter cracks, making lighter fluid go everywhere, too.
“Oh, fuck you, you little bitch.” I'm not sure who I'm talking to, but it's probably myself. I am a little bitch, after all.
I stare at the mess for a minute, my hands beginning to shake again. I sigh, turning around to get something to clean it up. I pass by the open door, looking in at Mikey and Gerard, who don't look up. They're sat in the same positions, Mikey back to his usual color, which is pretty darn pale anyway, and a slight smile on his face.
I grab the kitchen paper, turning back to the mess.
“The sharp shit first, I think.” Okay, so, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness isn't it?
Oh well.
I pick up the bits of the mug, putting them in some kitchen paper, careful to not cut my hands. Once that's done, I mop up the coffee and lighter fluid combination. I manage to scoop up the tiny bits of plastic while I'm at it, but the majority of the lighter is in one piece.
With the mess all cleaned up, I walk to the bathroom, aiming to have a shower. I haven't had one for nearly over twenty-four hours, which, lately, is a long time for me, and I feel really grubby. I grab some random clothes from my bedroom after I turn the shower on, and lock the bathroom door behind me.
I feel kind of rude, deserting Mikey and Gerard like this, but I have a compulsion to be clean, no matter what the cost is. And, especially after seeing the burn marks on my hand, which made me think about what he did to me, I feel like insects are crawling all over me.
I strip, getting under the spray, wincing slightly at the temperature. I don't fix it though, like the others times I've showered in the past few weeks, I become accustomed to the high temperature after just seconds. I clean myself, thoroughly, and wash my hair, thoroughly. I don't feel completely clean, but the shower is starting to get chillier, so I step out, knowing if I let the water go completely cold, I'll become accustomed to that, too, and never get out.
I rub myself dry, getting into my underwear and jeans quickly, in case someone manages to get in. I'm disgusting, so why would I let anyone see me, naked?
“Frank?” Gerard's voice makes me jump, and the scare makes me unable to talk for a minute, so Gerard knocks on the door harder and more panicked.
“Frank? I'm coming in.” The lock clicks, and the door opens. It's too late to cover my chest up, and I feel like a woman being intruded upon while they're topless and not expecting it. I immediately turn around, my hands beginning to shake again.
“Get out!” I hadn't intended on it to come out as a strangled cross between a scream and a shout, but I'll go with it. I can still feel him in the room with me, staring at me, and I can't help but feel like he's going to hurt me. “Get the fuck out! Get out, get out, get out!” I cover my face with my hands, muffling my shouts. I hear the door close softly, but I don't relax.
The primal feeling that there's danger doesn't leave, but the overwhelming need to cry or sleep or scream comes over me, and I end up doing two of the three; screaming and crying. Except, I can't scream properly, not without my neighbours thinking somebody is getting murdered, so it just comes out as a hoarse, pained groan. I fall to my knees, crying.
The salty water coming from my eyes seems endless, and the tears are all over my face, mixing with the water from my wet hair. I open my eyes, the room blurry, but I manage to locate my t-shirt and put it on, probably back-to-front.
I pull my sleeves down over my hands, balling my hands into shaking fists as I hyperventilate and cry.
“Frank? I'm sorry, I.. You just scared me. You're scaring me, actually, present tense. I'm always scared when it comes to you, terrified actually, and I don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, can you let me in? I feel sick and I don't think I'm supposed to be capable of that any more.”
I can't reply to him, even if I wanted to, but he doesn't walk in again. I continue to cry, not being soothed by usual at Gerard's voice, instead getting more worked up.
“Just fuck off, please.” If he manages to understand me through my hoarse sobbing that interrupt the sentence, I will find him a medal and personally give it to him.
He doesn't speak again, and everything's silent for a while, except from my noises, but even they slow down as I begin to get sleepy. I want to lie down, but I've been on my knees for that long, that I don't think I'll be able to move them without them snapping into two.
My eyes begin to close, and my sobs go to sniffles, and the relentless monsoon travelling down my face stops until it's just a trickle. My head drops, so my chin is touching my chest almost, and my back relaxes. I begin to fall asleep, only to be startled awake by Miles' voice in my ear.
I jump, falling sidewards, narrowly missing my head colliding with the sink, and look wildly around the bathroom. Nobody's there, nobody's there. No Miles, no Gerard, no Mikey. No nobody. With my knees stretched, I can move my legs. It hurts, but I can barely feel it.
Standing up, with help of the sink, I bend my legs slightly, getting them used to being straight again. I have pins and needles, the lower halves of my legs tingly and feeling not really all there. I walk a few steps, my foot getting caught in a towel, and lurch forward, only stopped from falling over by my grip on the sink.
“Shit!” I stand still for a minute, my heart thudding.
“Frankie? Are you okay? I'm here, right here, if you need me.”
“No, I don't fucking need you, Gerard. Not any more.” I push open the door, walking straight past him. I try to keep balanced, but I almost fall once, and I flush beet-red. Mikey's stood near Gerard, but I don't acknowledge either of them, I just walk into my bedroom and lock the door.
Collapsing on the bed, I let my eyes close. My body automatically curls into itself, my arms going around my, once again, bent legs. I let myself fall asleep, my slumber interrupted by nightmares that I have no energy to wake myself up from, and I wake up feeling more tired than I did anyway.
Groggily, I stand up, walking to the door and unlocking it before stumbling out. I stop in my tracks when I see Mikey and Gerard, staring at me, tensely. They both stand up instantly, and I flash Mikey a smile, ignoring Gerard completely, and walk into the kitchen.
“Frank, are you okay? What was all that about?” Mikey makes me jump, my brain thinking for a split second that it's him, that he's come back, and that he isn't actually dead.
“I wouldn't say that I'm okay, but I'm okay.” I spoon the coffee into my mug, pouring in the boiled water. Sipping it, I grimace at the taste, something I didn't notice while drinking it earlier.
“God, this is shit. Why did I buy this shit? I wouldn't even give it to Miles... Well, actually, yes I would, I'd make him eat the granules of the shit.” I forget that Mikey is behind me, and trail off on a spiel, bringing up Miles.
“Um, who's Miles?” I turn around, leaning on the counter. On the outside, I, hopefully, look like the picture of calm. On the inside, however, I'm fucking freaking out. I don't think I've actually said what happened to me out loud to Gerard yet, so how am I going to be able to say it to Mikey?
“Um... Nobody?” I smile awkwardly, illustrating my lie perfectly.
“Yeah, sure. I know when you lie, Frank.” I sigh, my smile dropping and the coffee being sipped at.
“I never asked if you wanted a coffee... Do you want a coffee? Or a drink? Or anything?” He shakes his head, his lips pursed.
“Well, actually, yes, I do want something,” I raise an eyebrow, telling him to continue silently. He nods, a small, grim smile on his face. “Yeah, I want you to tell me about what's happened since you've been here. A catch up, so to speak. And, there isn't allowed to be any lying, from either of us.” Seeing no other choice, I nod, my mouth set in a grim line. I down the last of my coffee, which is about half, but I manage it, and walk past Mikey, waving a hand at him to get him to follow me.
We sit, me on a random chair that's in there, presumably one that Gerard sat on, instead of the couch, and stare at each other, neither willing to break the silence.
“So...?” I shrug, crossing one leg over the other. “Frank.” I look up, nodding. Mikey sighs at the lack of noise coming from me, and sits back. I want to rip him off the couch and burn it, but Mikey would ask questions.
“Where's Gerard?”
“He's gone to the pizza place we ordered from to apologize and to get a new one, considering no-one answered the door.” I didn't even hear the fucking door, if I'm honest.
“I'm not hungry. Gerard has a 'blood-only' diet... It looks like it's going to be just you eating tonight.” Mikey shrugs, sighing.
“Stop changing the subject, Frank. Why did you have a major freak out when Gerard walked in on you? You're a couple, surely that's pretty normal? Is it because he 'attacked' you?” I shake my head, leaning forward.
“We aren't a couple, Mikey. He was going to kill me yesterday, so I broke up with him, for good.” Mikey's mouth falls open, and he looks at me, dumb-founded for a minute.
“He what?” I nod, shrugging. “Why?”
“I don't know. We were going out, and we stopped at McDonald's, because I was hungry, and he went in fine, but he came back out, pissed as hell. He drove for some more while I ate, but I felt sick and made him stop the car, so I could throw up. He then turned the car around and drove me back here, where we had an argument in the car, and I baited him, saying that if he hit me, I would be gone and there'd be no more Frank to bother him.” I speak in a monotonous voice, not looking at Mikey as I speak.
“So you broke up with him and then what?” I sigh, already tired.
“I came up here and fell asleep, when I woke up, I called you and asked you to come. Then, about five minutes before you came, he turned up, and I made him hide in the bedroom.” He nods, blinking a few times.
“Okay, and why did you freak out?”
“Because I thought he was somebody that isn't supposed to be here, and I got scared.”
“Scared? More like fucking terrified, Frank. What did the person do to you to make you that scared?” I bite my lip, reliving that night.
“Do we really have to do this?” I sound more aggressive than I was supposed to, and Mikey jumps.
“I'm sorry, Frank, but yes, we do.” I groan, clenching a fist.
“I don't want to, though.” Mikey rolls his eyes, leaning forward, too.
“Frank.”
“Mikey.”
“Hey, guys.” Gerard appears next to us, making Mikey leap up and for me to fall out of the chair.
“Oh, fuck you, Gerard!” Mikey shoves Gerard, not making him move an inch. Gerard holds out the pizza, glancing at me, sprawled on the floor, then to Mikey.
“Having a nice trip, Frankie?” I get up, staring daggers at Gerard.
“You're not allowed to call me that any more, Gerard.” Gerard looks hurt for a second before he recovers and replaces it with nothingness.
“Fine, Frank. That's just fine.” He holds out the pizza, and when I make no move to take, Mikey does with a sigh.
“Wow, put your claws away, girls...” Mikey walks into the kitchen, shaking his head. I stare at Gerard for a second, looking into his familiar eyes, but find no trace of the love that was in them not even three days ago.
I walk after Mikey, watching him put the pizza on the side and leave it, bumping into me as he walks out of the kitchen.
“Why does everybody keep fucking scaring me?” I smirk, following him into the lounge, where Gerard has sat on the chair.
“Um, can I have my seat back, please?” He looks up at me lazily, blinking a few times before shaking his head and looking away.
“Why not?” He sighs, looking at me again.
“There's a perfectly good couch,” He points at it. “Right there.” I look at it, a feeling of nausea coming over me at just the thought of touching it.
“You know why I can't sit on that, Gerard.” My voice is low, trying to be quiet so Mikey doesn't hear. Gerard's eyes flash with something, and he looks a little like nice Gerard, but the looks disappears as quickly as it came.
“And why is that, Frank?” Mikey's hand lands on my shoulder, and I shrug it off without thinking.
“Because.” I shrug, walking into the kitchen and getting another chair, placing it as far away from Gerard as possible, but still trying to sit in the lounge.
“Whatever, Frank.” Mikey sits down, a little more cautiously, this time, though. A look of horror and realization falls on his face as he jumps up.
“Have you guys, like, had sex or something on here?” I freeze, but Gerard chuckles, shaking his head.
“No, of course not, Mikey. Why we we have sex on the couch when we haven't even had it in the bed?” My eyes widen at Gerard, and anger starts building at the pit of my stomach.
“Wait... So you haven't had sex yet?” Gerard shakes his head, cruel amusement glistening in his eyes.
“So... Are you still a virgin?” His question is directed at me, an innocent one, really, but all the same it makes me feel sick and makes my eyes tear up.
“N-no..” I press a hand over my mouth, trying to stop the rolls of nausea.
“Who have you done it with, then?” I close my eyes, barely containing a gag at the though of Miles.
“Miles.” Gerard answers for me, but, for once, I'm not grateful.
“Miles? Oh.. Miles..” I stand up, my fists clenched. Uncontrollable anger is going through me, and I know that if I don't get by myself, I'll fucking explode. I open my eyes slowly, my fists shaking from how hard I'm clenching them.
“Yeah, Miles,” Gerard hasn't even glanced at me, but Mikey is looking at me warily, obviously scared. “Why don't you ask Frankie about what Miles did? Why don't you ask about where Miles is now? Why don't you ask him about who helped him after Miles fucked off and left him, bleeding, crying, and a fucking wreck?” I shift my vision to Gerard, who is sat, with a smirk on his face.
“Gerard, shut up. Look at him, Gee. He isn't okay, so shut the fuck up.” Mikey points at me, and only now does Gerard look at me. I don't think I look angry any more, how can someone look angry when they have tears pouring down their face?
I can see my chest rising up and down, but the black spots clouding my vision are making it hard to see anything. I can't get the images of Miles out of my head, I can't get the need to throw myself out of the window away.
“He's only having a panic attack. He just needs to breathe with someone.” Too late for that. I can feel my knees buckle, but everything after that is a forgotten blur.
I wake up in a bed, a bed that I think is my own, but still I panic and feel my chest and legs for clothes. I'm breathing fast again, and I'm struggling to get the sheets off me. I get free of them, falling to the floor a few times as I try to get to the window. I open it, pushing it as far as it will go, my hands shaking.
I look down, the distance to the ground blurring as tears drip from my eyes. Would the fall kill me? I could always find out, couldn't I?
I grip the window sill, checking behind me for anybody. One leg is over before I knock something off, a shitty vase, one that fucking makes the loudest bang known to man as it hits the carpeted fucking floor. I freeze, a leg dangling over while the rest of me is on the ground.
The door opens, revealing Mikey and Gerard. They both freeze as they see me, but Gerard is the one to make a move to grab me. As soon as he touches me, I freak out. I lose my shit. I kick and scream and twist. My arms flail as he pulls me away from the window with ease, and my legs kick. My back arches continuously, panic overriding any sense in me.
“Frank!” I stop for a second, startled by the shout. I start kicking again in a second, though, and I'm dropped on the floor with my wrists pinned above my head. My chest is heaving, and my legs are still kicking, but with less force.
“Frank, calm down, it's only me.” I look at the face hovering above me, the familiar red hair morphing into the sweaty, floppy, brown hair that used to be Miles'. My eyes widen, and I try to scream, but no noise comes out. I start to struggle again, terrified to the core.
“No! You're fucking dead! Get off me, you can't fucking do this to me... N-not again...” My voice is racked with sobs, and my struggles are getting weaker. “You're dead... You're fucking dead! Ger-Gerard got y=you..” I give up on moving, just opting for crying.
“Frank, it's me. It's Gerard. Not Miles, Gerard.” I continue crying, barely hearing the voice. The pressure on my wrist relieves itself, and when I look up, I see red hair instead of brown. I curl into a ball, my crying suddenly stopping, and lie there, staring into space.
“Gerard, what happened? He wasn't like this even after his dad got him...” Their voices are muffled, but I can hear Mikey, and the last thing I need is to remember everything that happened before Gerard died. I put my hands over my ears, trying to block them out, but it's no use.
“It's not my place to tell you. I was way out of line earlier, I shouldn't have even said his name, I know how bad he gets...”
“What's bad?”
“Try in the forest, high, with a noose.” I hear a gasp, then silence.
“He was going to... to...”
“Yes. If I'd have found him any later, I don't think he'd be here with us, like this or not.”
“Shit... Why haven't you found him any help?”
“In case you forgot, I'm legally dead and he's an adult. Only his mother, or Donna, in this case, can admit him into anywhere.”
“But... Surely, he wants help? If whatever this person did to him is so bad that he wants to jump out of windows and hang himself, then surely he wants help?” Gerard makes a defeated yet frustrated sound, but is silent for a while.
“I haven't talked to him about it. I don't want to make him do that... I love him, Mikey, you know that right? And because I love him, seeing him like this is literally killing me.. I can't help him because I don't know how! He won't let me touch him, he won't talk to me, he just lies in bed and does nothing. I have to help him keep a half of a meal down, even then we struggle...” He pauses, Mikey silent. “Haven't you noticed all of the weight he's lost? How fucking ill he looks? I thought he was getting better, he let me hug him yesterday, but obviously not. His bruises, Mikey. Oh, God, his bruises and cuts and thoughts. It was too much for me, I felt sick and broken just from his thoughts, and I don't even listen to them even more.” He makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a sob and a groan, and I sit up.
I stand up, slowly, and look at the window. Ignoring it after the first glance, I walk into the lounge, on shaky legs. Gerard's shoulders are shaking and Mikey's hugging him, but they're silent. Everything's silent, and I hate it.
I pull the sleeves over my hands, balling them into fists. Mikey notices me first, his eyes widening. He lets Gerard go, and then Gerard notices me. He takes a step towards me, his arms open, but then thinks better of it and drops his arms back to his side.
“I'm sorry.” His voice is in my head as well as out loud, and it rings with such sincerity that I almost nod my head, forgiving him. Instead, I roll my eyes, walking past him. I walk past him into the kitchen, getting my cigarettes and lighting one with a random lighter.
My feet are blue, but I can't feel any cold. In fact, I can't really feel anything. I feel completely numb, my brain isn't buzzing with thoughts like usual, quite the opposite, really. It's hard to string a thought together.
As soon as I finish the cigarette, I light another, breathing in deep breaths of smoke each time I take a drag.
“Frank?” I don't turn around, I just go on smoking. “Frank, talk to us.” I'm kind of starting to regret inviting Mikey here, all he's done is bring up bad shit I was almost, maybe, starting to get over. He stands in front of me, trying to catch eye contact. I avoid it, looking at the smoke coming off the lit end of my cigarette. Mikey continues to stare at me for five, ten, fifteen minutes before I finally crack and look at him. By now, I've lit another cigarette and I'm halfway through it. “Chain smoking isn't good for you health, Frank.” I shrug, not really caring about good health or fucking shit health. “You may not care, but we do.” Gerard appears too, plucking the cigarette out of my fingers.
I sigh, crossing my arms. “Frank, you need help. Help that we can't give you. What would you say if we asked you to come with us to some people and get help with them?” I snort, shaking my head.
“You mean get help at the crazy house, don't you? Well, I've news for you, I'm not crazy, I'm just.. unstable.” I laugh at myself, the laugh almost crossing the line of bitter to hysterical.
“You don't have to be crazy to go and get the help you need, Frank. Look, I don't want to be to harsh, but you've almost committed suicide twice in the last two weeks. You have panic attacks all the time, you can't eat without throwing up, you sleep, so much. There's a lot more that I could list, but what I'm trying to say is that this isn't normal, an-” I put a finger to his mouth, not feeling the cold his lips should be from the lack of blood flow, because, well, he's dead.
“Don't preach to me about normal, Gerard. You're a fucking mythical creature, for fuck's sake. I know what I'm doing at the minute is bad, it's not normal, I don't need fucking therapists on my case about it, okay? I don't need their help, I need time to get over everything. Maybe, after that, if I'm still like this, we can get me some help, but until then, fuck them!” I smile, once again chuckling at myself, and pull out another cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag.
Gerard and Mikey simultaneously sigh, making me chuckle again, the cigarette almost falling from my mouth. “Gerard? Have you got any special power thing that could make me drink and take drugs without damaging my liver? I mean, I don't have you to give me another one, and I could really use a drink right now..” I have to talk around the cigarette, which makes my words muffled, but Gerard understands.
“I'm not sure... And, anyway, if I fix it or whatever, and you drink yourself to death, what's the point?” I shrug, thinking for a second.
“It'll make me happier, I guess.” Ha, emotional blackmail. If this doesn't make him cave in, I don't know what will. I watch him, actually seeing his mental debate going on.
“I suppose I could try and manipulate it to become 'new'... But what if it doesn't work? You could die..” I shrug, smiling again.
“Then, I guess it works out fine for me both ways, then, doesn't it?” They look at me in slight horror, making me laugh. “I'd like to say that I'm joking, just to make you guys happy, but I won't because then I'd be lying.” Mikey swallows, blinking slowly.
I stub out the cigarette, lighting another. My last one, actually. I tut at the packet, throwing it into the garbage can. I sit down, resting my head in a hand, watching the two Way's watch me. “So, Gerard, will you make my liver better or whatever?” He glances at Mikey, who shakes his head, then he glances at me, any hesitation he had melting away.
“Fine, but only because it'll make you slightly happier. As soon as you start on the drugs or make it seem like you have even the slightest drinking problem, it's gone. If I can't do it, I'll get someone else to do it, okay?” I grin, nodding.
“Sure, Gee, sure.” Mikey sighs, disappointedly.
“This is a bad idea, Gerard. He needs help, not a fucking substance abuse problem. Don't do it.” I flip Mikey off, sticking my tongue out at him.
“Mikey, back off. Let Gerard do his thing, let me drown in alcohol, and don't you worry you little head about it, okay?” He purses his lips, stalking off. I giggle, making Gerard tut at me.
“Why are you doing this, Frankie? If you keep pushing everybody away, there won't be anyone left to take of you and your bullshit. I know this is hard, I understand, but you're being a dick.”
“You don't understand shit, Gerard.” He rolls his eyes, raising an eyebrow.
“Do you remember what made me pretty fucked up and shit before you met me? All those drugs and boys and abuse, Frankie. You think once is bad, try several times over. I think it's you that doesn't really understand, my dear. If I do this for you, if I put your liver right, you've got to promise me you won't go haywire with the drugs and partying. It'll happen again, and again.” He doesn't look at me once, but everything he's saying strikes me at my core. I thought he couldn't remember any of that? I certainly haven't thought about it.
“How do you know about that?” He shrugs, still not looking at me.
“Sometimes being in your mind while your asleep isn't the best place to be. You remember everything, that's what causes the nightmares.” I start to feel sick, not for myself this time, but for Gerard. He has been through this, he's been through this and worse. He knows what he's talking about, he knows about substance abuse, yet I don't want to listen. And, for that reason and for that reason only, I'm not going to listen.

Notes

I don't know when I'll update next, but hopefully soon.