Before The Sun Goes Down

Frank's POV.
The drive home was easy and fast, and the welcoming I got was even better.
Mikey had phoned ahead, so Donna had arranged a little party for me. I think somebody told her about my phone being broken, because she presented me with a new one, all set up with everyone's numbers on it. Fabulous...
Gerard didn't come, and he went in Mikey's car, his he had left in the cemetery car park. Gerard hadn't even looked at me, he hadn't acknowledged my presence, even.
Anyway, during the gathering, I panicked and hid in the bathroom because there were too many people. Eventually, they all left, all two of them; Ray, and Bob. I freaked out over four people, Mikey, Ray, Donna, and Bob, a new low, even for me.
Donna tried to speak to me, but I was exhausted, so she just let me go to sleep, but not without making me promise that I would talk to her when I woke up. I woke up three hours ago, and it's around three A.M, so I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate me waking her up, just to 'talk'.
I've tried falling back asleep, but I can't because of the amounts of thoughts in my head. They're like hundreds of sheets of paper in cyclone, and I can't catch them, no matter how hard I try. It's exhausting.
I've smoked a twenty-full packet of cigarettes, and I'm sure that when the door gets opened, a cloud of smoke will pour out, thick and grey.
Every time I drift off, a thought will jump me awake, then it'll fly away so I can't chase it. Every single time. The clearest thing I've thought for a while is about Gerard, and where he is.
And how he is.
And what he's doing.
And thinking.
And who he's with, if he's with anyone.
I think I do manage to ignore the cyclone in my head for a while, because I close my eyes and the world goes black just as sunlight flickers on the wall, in all it's orange, beautiful glory.
“Frank, wake up..” Someone shakes my shoulder, making me open my eyes and groan.
“What?” I have the duvet over my head, which smells like Gerard used to when he was alive.
“It's almost lunchtime, and you need to eat.”
“Why?”
“It's one of the things that Gerard made me promise to do yesterday, he said, 'Mikey, you have to make him eat. You have to make him laugh. You have to make him breathe with you when he has a panic attack.'” Sighing, I get up, with a frown on my face.
“Let's eat, then.” He smiles at me, and I roll my eyes back.
Donna isn't here, so I don't have to force myself to not throw up if I need to, which is a relief. Mikey makes us both sandwiches, plain cheese for me. I also manage to get him to convince me to make me a coffee.
What I don't manage to do is eat all of the sandwich, feeling full after two thirds of it. I get waves of nausea, but Mikey distracts me until it settles.
“So, Frank, how did you sleep?”
“I didn't, really. I got a few hours.” His eyes get worried, but he smiles at me.
“Okay. That's better than nothing, I guess. I'm sorry for waking you up, I wouldn't have if I'd have known.” I shake my head, waving him off.
“Who needs sleep, anyway?” I smile at him, a fake one.
“You do, by the looks of it.” Gerard makes both Mikey and I jump, he appears out of nowhere.
“Hey, Gee.” He waves at Mikey, sitting down and not looking at me.
“Anyone need anything from the shop? I've ran out of cigarettes and I thought I'd be brave and go...” Anything to get me out of here. They shake their heads, so I tell them, 'Okay', and put my shoes on.
Taking a deep breath I walk out of the path, my head down and my hood up, lest anyone recognizes me. On the way, I'm successfully unnoticed, and in the shop I'm good, too- but I don't just buy cigarettes, and on the way back I'm successful.
Before I go in, I hide the bottles of alcohol in my jumper, crossing my arms to camouflage the odd lumps. I pass by them unnoticed, saying that I'm going for a shower.
The alcohol is hidden in my pillows, and I do go for a shower, feeling grubby. I emerge, feeling a lot cleaner and readier to face Gerard due to a quick mouthful of some gin- for Dutch courage.
“Hey.” I sit down with them, both still where I left them, but with mugs of coffee in front of them as well.
“Hey.” Mikey smiles at me, glancing between Gerard and I.
“Frank.” Gerard's cool towards me, nodding his welcome. He sniffs, his nose crinkling up. “You're drinking already?” I look down, blushing. Once the redness of my cheeks fade, I look back up.
“So what if I am? Why do you care?” I narrow my eyes at him, making him look away.
“Because I love you.” We fall silent, Gerard and I avoiding each other's eyes.
“Wow, awkward.” Mikey speaks first, getting up and making more coffee for us all. I light a cigarette, smoking it pretty violently. I stub it out violently, too. It makes Mikey chuckle, and Gerard isn't looking at me.
“Do you want some whiskey in your coffee, Frank? Surely it's too weak for you?” I roll my eyes, shooting him a glare.
“No, Gerard,” I look at him, right in the eyes. “Do you want to know why I even had a drink in the first place?” He shakes his head, but I tell him anyway. “I did it because I couldn't face you again without it. The guilt and longing and love that I have towards you is eating me alive.” He looks like I've just slapped him, and Mikey is tense.
“I'm sorry.” I nod at him, turning back to my coffee and swallowing some.
The kitchen in that house is a pretty dull place for the next two hours, with only the occasional conversations between Mikey and I or Gerard and Mikey, then Donna comes back, beaming at the three of us.
“Oh, Frankie, Gerard! I'm so happy that you're both here, that we're all together again.” I try to smile convincingly at her, but she picks up on the bad vibes floating around and the smile quickly drops off her face.
“I'm glad too, mom.” She looks between the three of us, her eyes puzzled.
“What's going on? I'm picking up something, and it isn't happiness, no siree.” We all sigh at the same time, and I light another cigarette.
“I'm fine, it's those two.” Mikey juts his thumb at us, sipping his coffee.
“What's wrong with you two, then?” I sigh again, a cloud of smoke escaping with it.
“Frank broke up with me. He's unhappy, I'm unhappy. I'm plotting a plan for revenge again, and Frank's smoking himself to death. Oh, and he has an alcohol problem, by the looks of it.” And when he drops that, he disappears, the door slamming shut after him.
Donna's been staring at me with her mouth ajar for the last five minutes, completely pale.
“Is it true?” Her voice is quiet, filled with something I can't put my finger on.
“No, it's not.” I sigh again, flicking ash into my mug.
“Which part? You've broken up with him, or you've got an alcohol problem?”
“Alcohol.” She sighs, sitting down where Gerard was.
“You're bullshitting me. I know you are, Frank.”
“Fine. I don't think it's true, is that better?” I take another drag, blowing out smoke rings and pretending I'm calm.
“Not really... It'd be better of it really wasn't true, but I don't think that's the case, is it?” She leans forward, speaking softly but quickly. I shrug, drinking the last of my now-cold coffee. “Can I ask you something?” She puts her hand on top of mine, a motherly gesture.
“Fire ahead.”
“How much have you drank recently?”
“A lot. But I can handle it.” She sighs, shaking her head.
“You say that now, Frankie, but we all know that it's a lie. In a few weeks time, it'll be an everyday thing, but instead of just in the evenings, it'll start at breakfast and not stop until you pass out, then it'll start again.” I shake my head, looking at her.
“No, Donna. I can handle it. I'm not an alcoholic, okay? I'm not.” I shake my head, reassuring myself just as much as I'm trying to reassure Donna.
“Frank, listen to her,” I shoot Mikey a dirty look, but he just raises his eyebrows at me. “Frank, please.” I sigh, looking to Donna.
“Have you got any alcohol in here?” I flounder, staring at the both of them.
“Um.. Um...” Mikey rolls his eyes, looking away.
“I'll take that as a yes. Now, where is it? Show me.” I do nothing, so Donna gently takes my wrist and pulls me up. Sulkily, I go to my bedroom.
I stand in the doorway until she pushes me in the room. “Where is it?” She crosses her arms, pursing her lips. Sighing, I get out the bottles and hand them to her.
“That's it.”
“God, when were you planning on drinking this?” Mikey walks in, his eyes wide as he asks the question. I shrug in response, not wanting to say, 'Tonight'.
“It was tonight, wasn't it?” I look at Donna with wide eyes, then I nod.
“Yes, it was. Probably.” They both sigh at me, and Donna shakes her head.
“Well, now the sink is going to drink it all.” I groan, cursing under my breath as we go back into the kitchen.
I almost snatch the bottle out of her hands, but I think Mikey must sense something, because he stands in between Donna and I. The alcohol gets poured down the drain, the bottles get put outside. “Now, I don't want you going and getting more, okay? If you do that, I'll kick you out.” I sigh again, rolling my eyes.
“Stupid Gerard...” I mutter under my breath, trying to not let them hear me.
“I heard my name?” Gerard appears behind me, making me jump and stumble forwards.
“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes at me, his expression hardening.
“I'm doing you a favor. Stick to cigarettes, Frank.” I flip him off, and Donna hit me round the back of my head.
“He's right, Frank.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't care if he's right,” They all stare at me, and I look down, not wanting them to see my reddening cheeks. “Stop staring at me!” I huff, crossing my arms and walking away. I get my jacket on. “Where are you going?” Gerard appears out of nowhere again, and I jump, again.
“I don't see how that is any of your business.” I narrow my eyes at him, my voice low.
“Tell me or I'll follow you.” I groan, moving away from him.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“I'm just going for a little fucking walk, okay?” I go to open the door, but he stands in front of it.
“Gerard...” I cross my arms, my voice turning into a warning hiss.
“Yes, Frank?” I sigh, trying to get passed him.
“Move. I'm going for a walk.” He shakes his head, a smirk on his lips.
“Where are you walking to? I might just join you.” I stomp a foot, shaking my head.
“No, you aren't fucking coming. You just want to check that I don't buy any more alcohol, don't you?” His smirk drops for a second, but it appears on his lips once again, the playfulness disappearing out of his eyes a little.
“That could be why.” He shifts slightly.
“I'm not going out to buy more. I need to get out of here, away from here, from...” I was about to say 'you', but I stopped myself.
“From me?” His voice sounds hurt, his eyes are dropped to the floor.
“Yes, Gerard. Away from you, okay?” I bite my lips after I say it, regretting it. He steps away from the door, his shoulders hunched.
“Go, then,” I glance between him and the door, a frown on my lips. “Go!” I jump at the harshness of his voice and scramble out of the door, slamming it behind me.
I jog away from the house, looking behind me occasionally. When the house is out of sight, I put my hood up and keep my head down. I walk with my head down until I start to hear people, then I slow down and avoid eye contact with everybody.
Everything is fine until I see someone from high school. Craig. I stare at him, anger and panic bubbling up. I stare for too long and he sees me, a devilish grin on his lips. I look away, walking back the way I came.
“Frank!” A hand lands on my shoulder, making me jerk away and my breathing to go uneven.
“What?” I look at him, trying to look and sound a lot tougher than I am.
“How are you? Still small..” He looks down at me, smiling. A front tooth is missing from his mouth, and it makes me shudder.
“I'm okay. I actually need to get going, so if you'll excuse me...” I start to take a few steps away, but his hand goes back onto my shoulder and he stops me from moving.
“No, no, Frank. I have some things I need to tell you, actually.” I gulp, seeing no other option but to nod along with what he's saying. “There's a little coffee shop, c'mon.” He moves his hand from my shoulder to my wrist and drags me along.
Five minutes later, we're sat in the coffee shop, him with some tea and me with a black coffee. I've started to like them since being around Gerard.
“So?” He looks up from his tea, his hands shaking.
“Does the name 'Miles' ring a bell?” I choke on the coffee I was swallowing, my eyes widening. Craig grins, bringing his shaking cup to his lips and drinking. Now, he isn't the only one with shaky hands. “I thought it might... Can you tell me why he's been bothering me, please?” The grin is off his face, replaced by a pissed off expression.
“Fuck... Miles is here?” He nods, sipping his tea. “When did you last see him?” I lean forward, my voice low but frantic. He shrugs, sipping his fucking tea. I put my mug down, leaning backwards. Then, I grab his collar, bringing his face close to mine. His tea spills on me, but I pay it no attention.
“When did you last see him?” His eyes are wide, and he swallows.
“Yesterday. I last saw him yesterday, around dinner time.” I let him go, watching him with disgust as he mops up the spilt liquid. I pick up my mug, sipping the drink, trying to calm down.
“You're still as pathetic as you were before, aren't you?” He looks at me for a second, a serviette clasped in a shaking hand, then he goes back to wiping at the table. “What did you tell him?” He doesn't answer me for a second, still trying to soak up the tea, but then he drops the serviettes and look at me.
“I told him nothing, I didn't even know you were back in town.” I place my mug back down, leaning forward. When I speak my voice is shaking, and I almost slap myself.
“Then how does he know? How does he know who you are even?” He shrugs, edging away from me.
“He asked me if I know you, if I know where you are. I was high, so I can't exactly remember.” I sigh.
“What else? What did he look like?” He thinks for a minute, silent.
“He was pale, like, really pale... His eyes were almost red, but that could have just been the drugs... He got out of a car, a real nice one, and he ask me the questions. He might have also mentioned what happened between you two...” He trails off, looking down. I pale, freezing. My breath catches in my throat, and I drop the coffee onto the table. It doesn't fall over, it just bounces once and some spills out of the sides.
“Which was?” I sound strangled, and when he looks up, his eyes widen again.
“Are you okay, man? You look ready to pass out.” I clench my jaw, breathing in and out several times before looking at him.
“I'm fine. Just tell me what he fucking said.” I say this through gritted teeth, a hand slamming onto the table quietly.
“Okay, okay! He said that he was looking for you because you two had some unsettled business, that he.. um...” He trails off again, shifting uncomfortably. “That he did something to you.” I nod, one curt nod.
“Is that all?” He nods, warily. “If he ever comes near you again, I want you to ring me.” I write my number down on his arm, using a random pen in my pocket. He nods, looking at his arm.
“Before we go, can I get you to buy some drugs?” He grins at me, breaking the serious tension. I look at him, rolling my eyes.
“What kind of drugs?” His grin gets wider, and he grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the shop.
“We didn't pay, Craig...” I look back, half expecting the police to be following us.
“And? It was only a shitty tea and a shitty coffee... We didn't even drink all of it.” I nod my head, pulling my wrist away from his hand.
“Could you not... touch me, please?” He glances down at me, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Why...?” I look away for a second, not knowing how to answer. “Oh...” I look at him. “Okay, cool, man.” He smiles at me, stepping away. I smile back at him, putting my hands in my pockets.
“Where are we going?” I say, after around five minutes of walking. He grins at me, tapping his nose. I roll my eyes, sighing, but a smile has found its way onto my face, too.
We walk for a while longer, until he stops and gets out some keys. The places he's stopped us at looks pretty squalid, and I immediately want to clean it.
“This is your place?” He nods at me, looking back at me.
“Yeah, and it's just me here, so don't worry about any random people walking in. Nobody knows that I live here, even.” I nod, looking around.
The curtains are drawn, making the place shadowy and dingy. The once-white walls are a dirty beige color, and the carpets have faded to a grey-blue. The couch is sagging and it has holes in it, and the closed doors that lead to the different rooms have numerous holes in them, too.
“The place is a shit-hole, I know.” I laugh at him, nodding along.
“Well, it definitely isn't The White House...” He laughs with me, turning on the light. The illumination makes the place look worse, and I cringe, making Craig laugh at me again.
“Let me guess, you're a clean freak, aren't you?” I nod, smiling at him.
“You could say that, I guess.” I follow him into the kitchen, which is cleaner.
The walls look whiter, and the tiles on the floor have a somewhat of a shine to them.
“I would offer you something to drink, but I'm not sure you'd like drinking out of my stuff...” He awkwardly opens a cupboard, which shows streaky and dull glasses, and I shake my head, chuckling.
“I'm good, thanks...” He smiles, sitting down at the table. He gestures to the seat opposite, and I sit, too.
“So, drugs.” He stands up again, opening a drawer and pulling out a black box. Sitting down, he places it in front of him and opens it. “I have... Why don't you just have a look?” He scoots his chair so he's sat next to me, and I look into the box.
I'm pretty innocent when it comes to drugs and shit, so I can only identify a few. Things like cocaine, marijuana, LSD.
I glance between Craig and the drugs, and after a few minutes, I shrug at him, leaning back in my chair. “I have no clue what most of that is, Craig.” He laughs, rolling his eyes.
“You know what pot is, right?” I nod, leaning my head on my hand.
“I'm not stupid.”
“Let's start with that then, okay? You ever had any?” I shake my head, blushing slightly.
“I'm into alcohol more, to be honest.” He nods, pulling some pot out and closing the box. He stands up, putting the box back into the draw and opening a cupboard.
“I have plenty of alcohol, Frank.” He pulls out two bottles, one in each hand, and grins at me.
“Good.” I smile back at him, holding out my hand. He puts a bottle in it, and he grabs two glasses from the cupboard.
“I'll wash them again, if you want?” I nod, reading the label. It's foreign, so I obviously don't get very far.
Soon, a clean glass is put in front of me and Craig's sat back down.
“Let's get this party started!” He opens his bottle, knocking some back and cringing. I laugh at him, doing the same but managing to keep a straight face.
The drink is pretty fruity, like a cocktail, and the flavor masks the bite of the alcohol a little.
“Be careful with that one, it's really strong.” I nod, pouring a glass and sipping it.
We talk for a while, our voices becoming louder and more slurred as the minutes pass. My phone starts ringing, and I answer it before thinking.
“Hello?”
“Frank?” I sigh, wanting to hang up as soon as I hear the voice.
“What, Ger-Gerard?” I hiccup, making Craig laugh at me. I sip some more of my drink, topping it up with one hand.
“You're drunk.”
“And high.” He sighs down the line, making me roll my eyes.
“What are you doing, Frank?” Instead of the angriness I was expecting, I only hear disappointment.
“I'm drinking.” Another sigh. Craig laughs, standing up shakily and getting some more bottles out. One of them is clear, and I know instantly that it's vodka.
“Who are you with?”
“A person.” Craig laughs again, making me smile and grab the vodka out of his hand.
“Stop messing around! Where are you, and who are you fucking with?” Ah, here comes the angriness.
“I don't have to tell you anything. I'm an adult, and I can take care of myself. I'm in a safe place, and I'm with a friend.” I hang up, putting the phone back in my pocket. I'm sure that my last sentences were barely recognizable, because of the slurring, but I don't care.
Craig is staring at me, his eyes wide.
“What...?” He smiles, his eyes lighting up.
“We're friends?” I laugh at him, nodding.
“Of course we are, you dumb shit! Why else would I still be here?” His smile widens, and so does mine. He holds up his glass, his hands still shaking.
“Let's toast our friendship, okay? Cheers!” We miss each other, and we burst out laughing, trying again and managing.
We drink some more, we smoke some more. I feel light, like I'm in space.
“I'm baked like a fucking cake, Craig.” He looks at me, nodding and giggling.
“I know you are, Frankie. I think I am, too.” I laugh along, leaning backwards.
“I'm tired...” I yawn, rubbing my eyes.
“Let's go sit.” We stand up, grabbing the alcohol and pot. I drop a bottle, making the glass shatter.
“Ah, shit.” I look around my feet.
“Don't worry about, it I'll clean it tomorrow.”
“I wasn't thinking about that, I was thinking about the alcohol I just wasted, man!” He rolls his eyes, chuckling.
“Just sit down, Frank, and shut up.” I stick my tongue out at him, collapsing on the couch. It makes a sad sigh as I sit down, and for some reason it makes me sad.
“Poor couch...” I stroke it, sighing.
“Who are you talking to?” He sits next to me, making the couch sigh again.
“The couch! Be gentle, Craig. She's sad, I think.” He stares at me, an eyebrow raised.
“It's a couch, Frank.” I sigh, turning the other way and continuing to stroke the material.
“You don't understand, Craig. She's sad, you can feel it. She's sighs when you sit on her, she's sad.” I nod, my eyes wide. “Why is she sad?” I turn to Craig again, leaning forward.
“Um... Probably from all the sex 'she' has witnessed... I don't know?” He shrugs, patting the couch.
“Say sorry.”
“No... It's a couch.” I nod, crossing my arms.
“She's not just a couch, she's a sad couch. So, say sorry.” He looks at me, shaking his head.
“Fine,” He looks at the couch. “I'm sorry, couch.” I nod once, smiling again.
“I think she forgives you...” I trail off, thinking. “What's her name?” We look at each other, and Craig shrugs.
“I've never really thought about it, y'know? She's just a couch.” I shake my head, pursing my lips.
“But you're calling her a 'she', so she has to have a name, right?” He looks at me, his eyes thoughtful.
“Well, when you put it like that, then I guess you're right. What shall we call her?” I bite my lip, thinking. We're silent for a while, both trying to think of a name for her.
“What about Frannie?” I look at him, a smirk on my lips.
“Frannie? Really?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, that's shit.” He flips me off, laughing.
“Um... Anna?” I shake my head again, chuckling.
“I know, Carla. Carla the Couch.” Craig looks at me, his eyes dancing with amusement. He nods his head, smirking.
“Yeah, it's like... you know, that thing to do with English?” I nod my head slowly, trying to think of the word.
“Illumination?” We shake our heads, grinning. “Hyperbole? Rhyming? I don't know...” I shake my head, giving up.
“No... It's... Um, it's... Alliteration!” I grin at him, slapping his cheek lightly.
“Well done!”
“Why did you slap my cheek?” He rubs his cheek, a feigned hurt look on his face. I grin at him.
“A congratulatory slap, my friend.” He nods, grinning back.
I drink some more, finishing my glass and pouring some more.
“So, Carla, do you like your name?” He rubs the material, looking at Carla.
“I think she does, y'know.” He looks at me, nodding.
“Well, it is a pretty good name for a couch.” I nod back, looking down at Carla. Yawning, I lean back and put my feet on the coffee table.
“I'm tired, Craig.”
“So am I... Do you want to crash here tonight?” I nod, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
“Yes, please.” We sit in silence for a while, and I almost drift off, but my phone rings again. With a huff, I answer it.
“Yes?”
“Hello to you, too, Frank.” I roll my eyes, sighing.
“What do you want? I was just about to sleep.” I hear a chuckle, and it makes me more agitated.
“I want to know where you are.”
“No, Gerard. You aren't coming to get me, so go away and leave me alone.” I glance at Craig, seeing him asleep. I stand up, lowering my voice and walking into the kitchen.
“Frank, we're worried about you.” I feel my pockets, looking for some cigarettes and hopefully a lighter, and I find them. Opening the back door, I walk into the garden and light a cigarette.
“I don't care.” I have to talk around the cigarette, which is pretty difficult.
“You should care, Frank.” I sigh, rolling my eyes.
“Well I don't, so fucking sue me!” I shiver, my bare arms freezing.
“You've sobered up a little, haven't you?”
“Yes. And?”
“Now you can talk to mom.” I panic for a second, freezing.
“No, Gerard!”
“Frank Iero!”
“You sound pretty pissed off, Donna.” I hear a bitter laugh.
“That's an understatement, young man! I'm beyond pissed off. You better tell me where you are, right now, or else.” I take a drag, keeping quiet.
“Or else what?” I hear a groan coming from her, and I smile.
“Just tell me, Frank.”
“No.” My teeth start chattering, so I clench my jaw.
“Are you outside? Frank, where are you?” Now she sounds worried, which makes me feel guilty.
“Calm down, I'm just in my friend's garden. I came out so I didn't wake him up, okay? I'm fine.”
“Frank, please. Where are you and who are you with? I'm worried sick.” I sigh, almost inaudibly.
“Fine... I'm at Craig's house, and I don't know where it is, and I'm fucking fine.”
“Don't swear at me, Frank. And, is this the same Craig from high school? The dick?” I chuckle, taking another drag.
“Yeah. He's okay now, though. I was a dick to him, too.”
“You didn't tell his homicidal father where he lived, though did you? He did, and it cost you a mother and a father. And it almost cost you your life, Frank.” My insides twist, my mind flashing with memories of when everything happened.
“I know. He was a kid back then, though. Dad probably scared him shitless, y'know?”
“You're defending him? He got your mother killed, Frank!” I throw the cigarette on the floor, stomping it out.
“Stop fucking talking about her! I don't to have nightmares about that again, as well!”
“I know, I'm sorry. Don't swear at me, Frank.” I roll my eyes, breathing unevenly.
“Yeah, whatever. Can I hang up and sleep now?” She sighs, probably at my tone.
“No, I want you to come home.”
“I don't want to come home, Donna. I want to live a little, I didn't really do much of that when I was younger, did I?”
“I get it, Frank. But this 'living a little' might end up with you dead. I've heard bad things about Craig. He owes a lot of people money and things like that, okay?”
“Where have you heard that?”
“Um... Gerard.” I sigh, crossing an arm over myself.
“He's probably just talking a load of shit... I mean, rubbish. He's always hated Craig, and with good reason, but he's different now.”
“So you keep saying,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Just please come home,” She lowers her voice. “Gerard has told me about some of the things that went on, with... Miles, okay? I know it isn't safe for you to be out and about at the minute, and don't even try to bullshit me into thinking it is.” My stomach is churning, and the garden is spinning.
“Gerard told you what? Gerard shouldn't be telling anybody anything! He shouldn't be saying shit! That is my thing to tell people, not his. Donna, put him on.” She starts to protest, but I cut her off.
“Put him on! I don't care, just fucking put him on!”
“Frank, calm the fuck down!” Hearing his voice makes me ten times angrier, and I'm pacing around the garden.
“If you were a normal fucking human, you'd be so fucking dead right now, Gerard! I would fucking kill you myself, you know that, right? How dare you fucking tell her! How fucking dare you, Gerard.” I'm shouting down the phone, my voice as uneven as my breathing.
“Frank! She deserves to fucking know! She's practically your mom. Stop being an asshole and fucking come home!” I shake my head.
“No, fuck you! Fucking fuck you, you bastard. My fucking mom's dead, Gerard! She's fucking dead! Donna isn't my mom, my mother was fucking murdered!”
“Great, you've made her fucking cry! I hope you feel fucking better about yourself, Frank. I couldn't fucking care less if you don't come home, not any more. You're a selfish little bastard, Frank, that's what you are! We're all trying to be nice to you, but you keep throwing it in our faces, so, you know what? Fuck you!” He's silent for a minute, the only sound being my heavy breathing. “You know what? Fucking don't come home. Pick up your stuff tomorrow and fuck off. Stay with Craig, I don't fucking care.” I stare at the phone, my mouth open. All I feel is shock, but that doesn't last for long, it gives way to anger.
“Fine. I didn't want to stay near you, anyway. I fucking hate you, Gerard Way.” I hang up after spitting the words out, and I punch the side of the house.
“Fuck!” I go in, slamming the door shut behind me.
“Frank, man, what's wrong?” I look at him, my blood boiling.
“Every-fucking-thing. Do you have anything that'll knock me out for a while? I'm too angry to fucking fall asleep.” He nods, steering clear of me as he finds some pills or whatever.
“Here, take these.” I nod at him, in thanks, and swallow them with some water.
We sit down, but I still feel like I could murder Gerard. Slowly, I start to feel tired again, so I lean my head back and close my eyes.
“Goodnight, Frank.”
“Night...” I hear a door softly close and footfalls going up stairs, then I fall asleep.

Notes

So, March 22nd was yesterday... Man.
And, my little brother knows and can sing the first three verses to Welcome To The Black Parade, I'm such a proud sister!