Lonely Hearts Club (Sequel comming in June/July)

Frank rolled over in bed and groaned, he was never one for early mornings, he buried his head into his pillow and contemplated the day ahead and he then slowly raised himself up and sat on his bed, his legs hanging off the edge. He picked up his phone and stared at the time '6:30' he groaned again wiping the crystal sleep from his weak eyes. He could of sat there, on his springy and unmade bed, for a long time if it wasn't for the smell of pancakes rousing him from his tired haze and towards the kitchen like a cartoon dog. The kitchen was covered in cardboard boxes and even though everything was unpacked it hadn't all found its right place. Organised chaos. He sat munching slowly of his breakfast making slight small talk with his mum. Mostly about school and what she was going to make for dinner and the fact she still couldn't find her good scarf. The radio buzzed from the corner of the kitchen; a reporter, who was way too cheery and awake for this time of day, was wittering on about today's news: 'And today we will see sunny spells and frost. Time to grab your scarfs New Jersey winter is officially here.' His mother sighed and muttered something about her scarf again as she moved out of the kitchen.

Frank groaned when he thought about the day ahead. He settled his head into his hands and closed his eyes. He was fed up of moving around so much, but that's what you get when your mum has a horrid taste in men.

After Franks dad left his mum didn't mope for long and Frank was okay with that. He excepted it and actually liked the guy she was dating. They moved in with him after franks mum and him had dated for 4 months. Everybody seemed happy and Frank had settled into his new school. But it turns out he was a bit of a dickhead, with commitment issues, who liked to sleep around and therefore break Franks mothers heart. They moved out and settled down just the two of them and then a year later there was Mark, now he seemed like a decent guy, good job and he liked Frank. By this time they had moved 4 times and Frank was beginning to settle into their new life in New York when it happened again, suddenly Frank was packing up his room and his mum was crying and Mark was crying. Frank hadn't really understood what happened 3 weeks ago in their little apartment which lead to them having to move again and probably would just wait until his mother explained the circumstances of their move. Now they were back in New Jersey and he was just as uncomfortable as he was when he started his new schools before this one. They only seemed to stay in one place for 6 months at a time. Hopefully this one was permanent.

Frank was not wanting to be late for his first day of school so he made sure to leave for his five minute journey twenty minutes before classes started because his mum was probably the slowest driver ever. But today that came in handy. Franks phone buzzed in his pocket he scanned the screen smiling at the text. The one good thing about him being back in New Jersey was that he was able to rekindle with his old band mates. They were planning to meet up tonight. They were driving along and Frank wasn't really paying attention to the unfamiliar neighbourhood they passed on the drive, but he did notice the boy who was skipping backwards down a garden path laughing like a maniac, until he tripped over the edge on the pavement and fell into the path of the car and his mum had to hit breaks. It took him a good thirty seconds to get his bearings. He breathed in and out slowly and turned to his mum who was also in shock and shaking. Frank opened his car door slowly and moved towards the boy who was on the ground.

'Shit! Mum! Shit. Shit. Fuck' he muttered as he looked down at the boy. He heard his mum get out of the car and move closer her hand across face and tears in her eyes. 'I've killed him!' She whispered hysterically, Frank shook his head and sighed. 'Mum you haven't killed him, you didn't hit him!.' Frank got closer to the boy. His back to him and his ribs rising and falling and his jet black hair sprawled across the ground. The boy slumped up and looked slightly dazed.

Frank looked up from the boy to the house he had been running out of to see a half naked boy come running towards them. He was just as hysterical as Franks mother. 'You've killed him!' He shouted as he got closer to them. 'She didn't kill me' Gerard moaned sitting up and rubbing his head. 'She didn't even hit me.' Frank helped the boy up and got a proper look at him. He was wearing a black flag tshirt and had eyeliner smudged across his face, Frank already knew he liked him. 'Thank god!' Mikey said grabbing his earphones from the ground and running back inside the house. Gerard groaned and turned to face the car that had hit him. 'Thank god my mother is such a overly cautious driver and was only going 15.' Frank laughed and Gerard looked over at him, Frank was wearing blue skinny jeans, converse and a misfits hoodie. He had a scorpion tattoo on his neck and his lip sparkled when his lip ring reflected the winter Sun. 'Yeah!' Gerard said staring at Frank until he was interrupted by the boy who nearly killed hims mother. 'Frank get back in the car' she said quickly walking over to Gerard and talking to him.

Frank sat in the car, trying to lip read the conversation between his mother and boy they nearly killed. He put the radio on and tried to take his mind off school, being charged for murder and his mothers scarf. It was that chirpy news reporter again. Frank huffed and sank further into his seat. They talked and smiled and then the boy walked back up the path and his mum got back into the car. Like nothing had happened. She breathed slowly and looked over to Frank. 'I'm gonna make this work.' She said out of the blue staring down at Frank. Frank new what she meant. She'd been avoiding talking about their unexpected upheaval since they moved into their apartment 3 weeks ago. Frank nodded at her smiling and then looking ahead as she drove him towards his imminent danger.

Notes

Wow, its weird reading over this and realising how much my writing has changed over the course of 6 months.

-C