Latter Day Sinner

Sinkholes are a phenomena, involving the erosion and breakage of the ground which forms a sizeable chasm under the surface of the Earth, producing a visible colour change on the surface of the water, and a sizeable hole in the ground on land. Sinkholes are destructive, taking down entire houses and bodies of water, because nothing is able to remain supported atop one of these holes. The degradation of, say, a building into a sinkhole, would be gradual, but evident. The slight sagging of the walls, the inability to close windows and doors. The feeling of something being…not quite right. And then, before you know it, you and your entire life are buried six feet under, looking up at the sky and wondering what the Hell happened.
Frank, that following week, was in the emotional equivalent to a sinkhole.

“You’re sure everything’s okay, Frankie?” his Mother asked, on the third day in a row of his missing school. Frank sighed, tugging the blankets up as he stared blankly at a spot on the floor, his teeth clinking gently against his lip ring.
“Yeah. I’m okay, I just wanna take a day off,” he said dully, his eyes not moving from the point. His Mother sighed, leaning against the doorframe.
“You said that yesterday. And Wednesday,”
“And I’m saying it today, too. Ma, I’m 18, I don’t have to go to school anymore. Not really. I just feel like being alone, okay? I’ll…start again Monday,” he grumbled, shuffling deeper into the warm confines of his blankets.
Linda Iero looked exasperated, at a total loss as to what to do with her son. She’d seen him in depressive episodes before, but it didn’t help to soothe the discomfort she felt every time it came about.
She seemed to deliberate for a moment, before reluctantly nodding.
“Okay. One more day. Frankie, you have to promise me you’ll go back on Monday, alright?” she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.
Frank could see she was exhausted, and in a way, he felt bad about it. In his defence, though, there was little that could be done, on his end. He had no friends, everyone knew his secret, and his boyfriend probably hated him.
That last thing, of course, was the real kicker. Gerard had offered himself to Frank, in a moment of love and passion. The sex had been wonderful – Frank had never felt closer to anyone in his life, and he knew Gerard had liked it too. They were like two bolts of electricity, dancing inside a plasma globe, their strands of energy entwining in a bolt of pure love and joy.
And then it was gone. In a moment, that glowing pink swell of light dimmed to black, and Frank was left blind and alone.
Sick. Dirty. Impure. Those were the words Gerard had used to describe their time together. The feeling of Frank moving inside him, the hot, burning ache as he throbbed inside him, their bodies moving together in an explosion of heat and light, and in an instant it was gone.
Sick. Dirty. Impure.
The words made Frank’s stomach turn, his body squirming further under the covers. He’d been so happy, and it was all shattered as those three words slipped from his boyfriend’s lips.
Though, he wasn’t entirely blameless. He knew that. Leaving Gerard, while somewhat justified, was certainly not the right way to go about reacting to the situation. Gerard was clearly scared, and panicked, and not quite himself – Frank should have stayed. He should have calmed him down, and spoken to him, and got him back home safely. If not for the sake of their relationship, then certainly just because it was right. Gerard had to rely on a cane to walk – the least Frank could have done was help him to his car.
He’d been stupid. Gerard had been stupid, too.
They were two damn stupid idiots, and that’s why they loved each other so much. Frank knew it, but something – be it his pride or his humility – wouldn’t let him admit it. Certainly not to Gerard.
So that left him in his current condition. Avoiding the outside world, in the vague hope that the world would right itself in his absence, and he could pretend his life hadn’t fallen to pieces.
Which, for the record, it definitely had.

True to his word, come Monday morning, Frank returned, albeit very reluctantly, to school. He didn’t make much of an effort with his appearance whatsoever, instead just dragging himself through the halls with the air of a wounded mutt. His pride was hurt, as were his feelings, and he did not feel, in any way, like socialising with anybody at all. He knew that at some point he would have to face his old group of friends, of course, but he wasn’t looking forward to it whatsoever.
To his luck, and utter amazement, Frank managed to avoid the entirety of his friendship group for the first half of his school day. English, Art, Science and Math all passed without so much as a glance to any of his old friends. It was almost easy for him to pretend, momentarily, that there hadn’t been any friction at all. It set his mind at ease, even if it was temporary, so that when he finally did face them in the crowded lunch hall, he wasn’t so scared.
That’s not to say, though, that he wasn’t terrified. He was, definitely, absolutely frightened. But there was a little jump to his step as he made his way over to the usual table where his friends sat, his gaze unwavering and confident. When he got close enough that it was clear that his intention was to join them, his hands began to tremble slightly, causing his food to jolt a little on his tray, but he tried his best to seem strong even despite that.
Admittedly, Frank felt almost smug about the looks on his friends’ faces when he sat down in his usual seat. Mia didn’t even glance up, her eyes fixed firmly on her phone in a pointed gesture of ignorance. Cooter snorted, but didn’t make any effort to speak. Daniel and Damien looked a little shocked, but didn’t try to speak to him either.
In the end, the lunch hour was spent with the group of friends sitting in complete silence. Occasionally, an accusatory, or downright curious, set of eyes would fall on Frank, but he pretended not to notice. He took some satisfaction in how uncomfortable he was making everyone feel, even though he knew it was a childish joy. Realistically, nothing would happen, on either side, until he apologised and offered an explanation. But for this one day, he was extremely satisfied with the results of his own pettiness.
There was one moment when Frank felt like he might want to make amends, but it passed swiftly. At the end of the lunch hour, when everyone was getting ready to leave, and the first sparks of conversations were made amongst his friends – of course, not including Frank – he felt eyes on him. Turning around, he saw Daniel looking straight at him, his teeth chewing faintly on his bottom lip, as if he was feeling indecisive. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he had something to say, but Frank really had no idea how to proceed. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries – not when he was still unsure if he even wanted to make his friends like him again.
In the end, it proved unnecessary to worry. Daniel approached him quietly while the rest of the group was walking away.
“Hey, Frank?” he said softly. It was only then that Frank realised that he hadn’t been spoken to all day. The thought was, at the very least, very depressing. Frank smiled faintly, leaning against the table.
“You don’t hate me?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. It was an immature, petty response, but it worked for how he was feeling.
To his surprise, Daniel just shuffled, a little uncomfortably.
“No. I don’t hate you, Frank. I…I get it. I just wanted you to know that. Keeping secrets from your friends, especially if you don’t have a choice – it’s scary. So I understand why you did it,” he said softly, a little dent forming between his thin, blonde eyebrows as he tried to express himself correctly. Frank smiled a little.
“I’m glad,”
“You…shouldn’t have bailed on us. I know everyone was really hurt. You just…never wanted to be around us all of a sudden, and it was weird and made us feel super bad. But ah, I get it, now that I know why. I can’t promise everyone else will,” he spoke very diplomatically, and Frank appreciated it greatly. At least the kid was being honest, anyway.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll…try my best to make it better. Everything’s sort of a mess right now, and I don’t know how to fix it. And that’s scary for me, but I’m going to try.” Frank’s words came out in a sort of rambled rush, but Daniel seemed to be following it easily.
“I don’t know. I was…going to ask you something, but it doesn’t seem like the right time,” Daniel admitted. He shrugged.
“I just want you to know that you’re not alone, okay? I still care about you. Damien does, too. It’s mostly just Cooter and Mia who are mad, but you know how they are,” he mumbled. Frank smiled despite himself, clapping Daniel on the shoulder.
“Thank you. I’ll ah, I’ll talk to you later,” he said gently, his voice conveying the gratitude he was too afraid to show himself.
Daniel, it seemed, understood. He smiled and gave Frank a half-hearted wave, before turning and walking pointedly out of the lunch hall.
Frank was still alone, but he didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

The change was instantaneous. Sort of. At the very least, Frank, over the course of the next week, began to make an actual effort to drag himself out of bed, go to school, and actually try. His Mother was clearly impressed and, to his absolute delight, stopped nagging him about getting his life together. That, at the very least, was one less thing he had to worry about.
In regards to his status with his friendship group – nothing really changed. For the first couple days, the interaction was the same as the first. The group sat in awkward silence, not giving Frank so much as a glance. Frank, at one point, was actually certain that they were secretly texting each other from across the table.
If that wasn’t adding insult to injury, he wasn’t sure what was.
The only thing that seemed to be making the interaction easier, was that Daniel was, to his credit, interacting with Frank. It wasn’t often, and was usually only a couple words, but it eased the environment.
By Friday, everyone was back to talking, albeit tentatively, and things were definitely on their way back to normalcy. Sure, Mia was still glaring at him with cold, guarded eyes, and he hadn’t actually had the opportunity to bring up her betrayal – but it was a work in progress. He didn’t want to push things too far.
Things were looking up though, a little. In the sense that, perhaps Frank wasn’t quite in a sinkhole, but maybe in a very shallow canyon. Sure, he was miles below where he want to be, and likely trapped, but he could see the clouds without getting dirt in his eyes.

The only issue that hadn’t been yet on its way to being resolved was, of course, his relationship – or, in fact, his lack of one, as the current situation dictated.
Sure, he might get his friends back, maybe. If they could get over his betrayal, and if he could get over them dropping him like a heap of garbage. Maybe, eventually, he’d have some semblance of trust back with the group. But Gerard? How could he even go about fixing that? Did he apologise, or did he wait for Gerard to make the effort? He had no idea who was even in the wrong in that situation, so handling it was far beyond anything he was able to do. Whenever he thought about it, he could feel the floor breaking beneath his feet as he slid further into the abyss of his loneliness. That, truly, is what made him feel alone. His life was in shambles and he knew it, despite anything that may seem like it was looking up. His friends barely tolerated him – they wouldn’t care about listening to his relationship problems. His family didn’t – and couldn’t – know about Gerard, so that wasn’t an option.
Ironically, the only other thing he could do was seek guidance from a Priest – and that, of course, was definitely not going to happen.
Being alone wasn’t new to Frank by any stretch. He’d been bullied when he was a kid, which had pretty much put his idea of socialising as an entirely negative action. That was probably why he’d felt so lucky when he met Mia.
The thought raised an uncomfortable lump in his throat, so he swallowed it quickly. He’d be fine. He’d manage. He’d always been alone – he was good at being alone, wasn’t he? Loneliness was like riding a bike – you can surround yourself with good auras and friendly smiles, but as soon as your feet hit the pedals, your legs drag you into isolation, the bright scenery speeding past you into a blur of incomprehensible shapes and colours and sounds your ears cannot even begin to break into words. Least of all, words that are spoken to you.
Frank was good at being alone. If abandonment was an Olympic sport, Frank would have a gold medal and something to actually be proud of; the word “failure” stamped in molten glitter for the world to see. He’d have a cabinet full of dark thoughts and sideways glances, and he’d display them to his audience of no one, with broad, sweeping gestures.
Frank wasn’t religious. If his actions in the past few months didn’t prove that, he wasn’t sure what did. His behaviour had been positively blasphemous. But if there was one thing he loved about Gerard, even now, it was that ethereal, dancing gold light that seemed to shimmer along his very bones. The glow of godliness radiated from his every pore, and it filled Frank with the first tremors of hope. Despite his anguish, if there was Gerard, there was hope.
That’s how Frank found himself, that evening, kneeling on his bedroom floor, rosary wrapped around his fingers, his breath laboured and faint as he thought, desperately, of what to say. Whose forgiveness did he beg for? God? His friends? Gerard?
In the end, the words that tumbled through his mouth, accompanied by a raw, frame-wracking sob, were simply
“Oh God. Dear God, just bring him back.”

Notes