Touch Him Again, And I'll Kill You

Frank's POV Gerard and I haven't spoken in two months. I am slowly becoming okay with it. Of course I still love him, but there isn't anything I can do about it. I see him a lot at school. He looks worse and worse each day. If he isn't high, he's drunk off his ass. There was one day that one of the teachers threatened to call the cops on him, because he opened his locker and three bottles of alcohol fell out and broke on the floor. I don't know why she didn't call the cops, but it probably had something to do with her and Gerard sneaking off into the janitor's closet and not coming back for thirty minutes. He never looks at me, either. If I walk past him, he immediately turns his attention to something else. That's the only thing he can do that really hurts me. He can ruin himself and fuck teachers, but the second he doesn't even acknowledge my existence is when it really kills me. He knows it too. "So who are you going with?" I heard a voice beside me. I turned my neck and saw a smiling Jamia. "What are you talking about?" I asked her. She rolled her eyes. "The school dance!" "Oh, I didn't even know there was one." I said. "There's one every year, Frank. Maybe if you stopped paying attention to a certain someone, and payed attention to the rest of the world, then you would know this." I shrugged. "I don't really know if I want to go." "It's your last year, Frank. You have to go!" She said with a grin. She was right. I would be turning 18 in a month and graduating a few months after. I really have to start enjoying my high school life while it's here. "Fine, I'll go. When is it?" She let out a squeal of happiness. "It's on Friday. It's formal, so dress nice." She said before hugging me and walking off toward her next class. I, however, remained where I was. I had a perfect view of Gerard. He was a few lockers down from mine, leaning over a freshman, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. I know he was trying to hurt me, but it just wasn't working. I didn't want him if he was like this. He's doing whatever it takes to not feel anything, and that's okay. He quickly glanced up and saw that I was watching him. This time, he didn't immediately look away. He held eye contact without faltering. The girl he was talking to ran her fingers through his hair, and he looked at her. By the way he was staring at her, I thought he would have kissed her. But instead, he grabbed her hand and pushed it away from him. He brushed past her and walked the opposite way down the hallway. That's how I knew. He wasn't drunk or high, I could tell because he looked at me. He noticed me, and that's something he doesn't do anymore. He was getting better, and I knew I was wrong. Him not noticing me wasn't the only thing that hurt me. Him not needing me was what really hurt.

Notes

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