Hell-Bent on Slipping Away (Frerard)

Frank couldn't stop thinking about the way Gerard looked out on the White River, red hair gently blown behind him, a look of serenity in his squinting eyes, biting down on his lip. In fact, Frank fell asleep in history with that image consuming his mind, for it was far more intriguing than the Aztecs.

Gerard was nowhere at lunch, which puzzled the young boy, because he had come to school with him. And when the bell rang, Frank ventured out into the junior parking lot, where Gerard's parking spot was, but number 210 was empty. Pulling out his mobile phone, he called his friend, but it went straight to voicemail.

The busses had already left by then, so Frank had no choice but to either walk home or disrupt his mother from work. The house was quite a distance away, but even giving his mother's kind nature, she raised hell when Frank got into a trouble like this. Choosing the former (and more exhausting) option, he began the path that lead to his house.

He knew a shortcut through the woods that would lead directly to his neighborhood from the Shell station two miles from the school. Cutting into the thicket, he stomped over the underbrush until he found a decent walking trail. A worn dirt path littered with boot prints and suspiciously animal-like tracks lead the way.

The sound of laughter and shouting was becoming more prominent as Frank moved through the woods. He was making a lot of noise himself, and though he tried to conceal it, the newly fallen leaves and twigs below his feet were a dead giveaway to his presence.

Suddenly a figure's shadow appeared, maybe twenty feet away, and as Frank neared it, it revealed to be several people, as many as six or seven. He tried to go around them, but he was trapped in by the dense forest. Either way, they would have noticed them.

One stood and called out to him, "Ey, whatchu doin' in heeya?" His accent was thick, like many of the people in the city.

"You a narc?" said another, this one less intimidating but angry all the same.

Frank's insides bubbled and he got dizzy. As stoic as he seemed to be most often, the sensitive boy couldn't handle dangerous people hiding in woods on the edges of Indianapolis, even in broad daylight. "N-no," he stuttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, a reflex.

"It's a kid," said yet another voice, and a figure stepped closer. Frank could see them through the trees, all six of them. They were too far away to see the facial features, but all looked burley and like they meant business.

"You betta fuckin' scram, lil twerp," the first person said. Without missing a beat, Frank hiked up his bookbag and bolted in the direction he had been headed.

He could only assume that the men were part of a kind of drug ring or something to that effect. This kind of thing scared the shit out of him ever since he was walking home from Gerard's one night and came across a man on some hallucinatory drug that caused him to think Frank was his dead mother, and promptly follow him for a block or so before trying to jump him. Never again would Frank venture near a person on any illicit substance.

But no matter the frightening men or stupid shortcut through the woods - when Frank got home, he tried to call Gerard, with no answer. Mr. Way picked up the house phone, but did not know where his son was. Frank began to worry, because if Gerard wasn't answering his phone and wasn't at home or at school, where the hell could he be doing?

Frank's worry for his friend only escalated when Gerard hadn't returned the next day. One minute he tells Frank that he wants to sail away together, and the next, he's gone? As curious as he was, he would never just vanish without explanation. He always did things for a reason, whether Frank knew them or not, but this seemed so out there, so sudden, that it couldn't possibly be for a sane purpose. Frank wondered if it had something to do with the black eye and the late night expedition to the river.

He was back on Friday, where he picked up Frank at his house in the morning like always. Before an interrogation ensued, Gerard drove the conversation in a direction other than himself. And even so, Frank didn't have the chance to be upset. He was just relieved that his friend was safe and sound - for the most part. The nasty bruise showed no signs of healing, other than the outer ring had turned a sickly shade of yellow.

Questions like "where did you go," and "what happened to your eye," were never answered, let alone asked. Something in the way Gerard was acting, so normal, so pleasant, told Frank that it was best not to bring it up. But he was intrigued nonetheless and was determined to find out eventually.

Through the next week, he was sick with worry. The possibility that Gerard could just leave suddenly again was a daunting issue on Frank's mind.

To his relief, he didn't.

But that didn't stop the incessant anxiety piling up within Frank. He found himself virtually unable to focus in class, because what if his friend left him? And that did nothing to help his reputation with the Satan teachers he had been oh so blessed with. They were pissed with him; he was behind in class, sleep deprived, and simply a ball of bad thoughts. But the teachers only saw poor performance.

Then it happened again, late in September, just out of the blue. Frank tried to recall everything Gerard had said and done before his disappearance. He had mentioned a hard teacher, an upcoming reading assignment, a test in one of his advanced placement classes, but nothing more. Nothing about home, nothing about the black eye or the other, albeit small, injuries Frank had begun to notice. A scrape here, a bruise there, four tiny half-moon shaped dents in his skin on his arm - fingernail marks. But Gerard seemed happier than ever.

He would talk about how much he loved being with Frank, and Frank relished in that. He would talk about all the fun things they would do when Frank graduated. They'd open a comic book store. They'd live in a cute apartment in New York City. They'd adopt cats. And Frank was genuinely excited with all the chatter about spending more time together.

But when Gerard vanished for the second time, Frank's elation was gone just as quickly. No one knew anything and there was nothing he could do. He felt entirely helpless, that was, until Gerard showed up a few days later at his house Monday morning, like always.

Notes

Hello! I hope everyone's had a wonderful week.

I really want to thank everyone that has supported this story so far. I'm really thrilled that this story has so many reads already and is getting such a positive response. I love to read y'all's comments :)

Much gratitude and best wishes.

xoxo
gerweird