Phobia

phi.lo.pho.bia

noun

The irrational fear of developing feelings for another person.


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Frank was completely frozen. He could feel the asphalt beneath feet as his surroundings became colder, sending an immense and unbearable chill down the length of his spine. Breathing felt as if it was almost impossible, it seemed that every breath he took put pressure onto his chest as time passed by him. His bright eyes were still fixated on Gerard's face as the words the boy in front just spoke rang around inside of his head, leaving a loud echo against his skull.

"No." Frank bleated, his voice too low for Gerard to hear at first, "No..it can't. You can't just..no."
Gerard shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt with a stare looking down on Frank. There wasn't much else for Gerard to say to him other than to spout more theories, which was immediately decided against as he noticed the reaction Frank was already showing. Gerard's teeth grazed his bottom lip, applying slight pressure as Frank turned away from his completely with his arms wrapped around himself.

"Frank?" Gerard crooned. He was careful not to push any farther, the last thing he needed was for Frank to be angered too.

Rubbing his temples with his fingers, Frank let out a shaky sigh. He was overwhelmed, he didn't really know how he was supposed to react. In a sense, Gerard was being rational. Why would they see images of two random boys? It would've only made sense for it to be them. But that's where it fell out of place; why didn't they remember each other and all of those memories? And why the fuck did it happen when they touched each other?

Gerard spoke softly, trying to gain Frank's attention with another gentle attempt, "Frank, are you alright?"

"I don't know." Frank murmured harshly.

"We need to, um, talk about this. I think?" Gerard was in a loss of what to say, mainly due to him being afraid of saying the wrong thing or something too touchy.

Almost shockingly, Frank turned back around, nodding his head but still refusing to look up at his dear friend. "Okay. Okay, yeah."

They began to walk again, silent and tense as their shoes crunched the fallen leaves that occupied the damp sidewalk beneath them. Frank's eyes still remained downwards, he wasn't necessarily looking where he was going, using his shoulder pressed against Gerard's to guide him along his way.

"Are you cold?" Gerard asked unexpectedly, noticing that the teenager beside him was still only dressed in a thin, white button up shirt.

Frank nodded hesitantly with a shiver. Taking note to that, Gerard slowly began to peel off the hoodie dressed on his slim torso.

"Are you out of your mind?" Frank yelped urgently and stopped dead in his tracks which brought Gerard to a halt as well, "You can't just take your hood off your head, do you want to die?"

Shrugging boredly, the hoary-haired boy tugged the sweatshirt off completely and handed it to the latter, leaving him in a plain navy blue T-shirt. "It's quite dark, I'll be fine."

Frank reluctantly took the black clothing and slipped it over his small frame. It was slightly baggy, dropping to the middle of his thigh and giving him sweater-paws. "You're going to get cold now."

"I'll be alright." Gerard muttered, gazing straight into Frank's eyes with a reassuring smile played on his pale lips.

"I don't..I don't feel safe." Frank whispered, embarrassed. To be more precise, Frank wasn't the one he felt unsafe for. Gerard's blinding hair was exposed now and could be seen from miles away. And for some reason, he was worried about the mystical pixie-haired boy getting the tiniest bit hurt.

"I promise you're safe. We're almost to your house anyway." Gerard replied and started along his way again, Frank practically joined at his hip.

"I don't want to go home." Frank hissed. Out of nowhere, he felt tears begin to brim the edges of his widened eyes, only daring the slip from the lining if he blinked. He was dreading going home at this point, there was no way in hell that he wanted to face his mother after it took him way too long to get home. And if she saw Gerard, how brutally would they both punished? How revolting were he banshee screams bound to be? Frank had no way to escape it at all, he couldn't hide or runaway, everyone would know he was gone and his face would be plastered about the living section like a lost convict.

"Please, Gerard. I just can't, okay? You can go home, that's just fine but I hate my family Gerard, I really fucking hate them." Frank began stuttering out. His mouth was working faster than his brains was, streams and streams of incoherent words spilled from his lips leaving Gerard to decipher what he was trying to say.

Gerard stopped their walking for about the third time and placed both of his soft hands on Frank's shoulder, stilling him and bringing their eyes into tight contact, "First of all, you need to stop cussing like a sailor unless you want hair like mine. Second of all, you need to stop thinking irrationally unless you want hair like mine. And finally, third of all my dear Frankie, you need to stop putting shit on your family's name unless you're bound and determined to have white hair, or whatever color it becomes. Got that?"

Frank's face paled. In the short time he'd known this timid boy, he'd never seen his wide fawn eyes become so stern. Gerard slowly released his grips off of Frank's frail shoulders and crossed his arms, the stern look never left his eyes. Frank thoughtlessly wiped his nose on the sleeve of Gerard's warming hoodie and stared down at his shoes again, just as before.

"You touched me." Frank muttered.

Gerard's face softened and he tilted his head forward, showing great concern for the frantic person before him, "Yes, I did. I'm sorry if it startled you. I didn't know how to make you listen to me."

Frank shook his head, his dark hair flowing as he did so, "I don't mind if you touch me...it's just..nothing flashed when you touched me that time."

Gerard pondered for a moment, "I think it's only skin on skin contact that makes it appear."

"So um, if I cover my hand with the sleeve of your hoodie, nothing would happen if we held hands?" Frank questioned meekly. He was shocked at himself for suggesting that but he wanted comfort more than anything. In that moment he didn't care if Gerard was the same gender, and he didn't care if they were in different groups, they were friends and there was nothing wrong with friends holding hands. It was the same thing as hugging as long as it wasn't taken seriously.

Gerard simpered and held out his pale hand, "I think that may be correct, Frankie."

Frank reached out carefully to feel the cloth of the sweatshirt wrapped around the flesh of Gerard's hand, he could feel the coldness radiating off his body from beneath the piece of clothing. Frank bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Of course this was beyond wrong but he had to keep reminding himself that this was a friendly thing that he need to get used to. There was nothing sinful about it, he was only holding his friend's hand. A friend that he barely knew.

"Shall we walk?" Gerard remarked quietly and tugged gently on Frank's arm.

And again, they walked but with a steadied and slowed pace. Gerard was perfectly comfortable with Frank holding his hand, he never had a problem with people touching him, especially people he was friends with. He was also overjoyed to let Frank wear his sweatshirt, it amused him that it was almost like a dress on the smaller boy and Gerard found that somewhat adorable. Sure, Gerard's ball were literally freezing off but it was worth it to see Frank content.

Frank's grip on the latter's hand tightened suddenly to an almost bone crushing squeeze. Gerard figured he was tensing since Frank's house was finally in their vision, it unsettled both of their stomachs into queasiness. The emotions were almost different being that Gerard was relieved to see his home in the distance while Frank fell a ball of anxiety set itself in his throat.
Frank's tight grip loosened as he began to let go, too afraid that someone would see them and think the worst of what was happening, "Gerard?"

"Yes?"

"You'll be in your garden tomorrow, right?"

Gerard chuckled softly and they paused on the sidewalk, "Just as always."

They stared at one another for a moment, not daring to say anything else until Frank dipped his head down as he could feel his cheeks turn ten degrees hotter. "I can walk from here, so it isn't suspicious."

"Alright," Gerard sighed happily, "have a good night, Frank."

"You as well, Gerard." Frank mumbled. He then walked away, trying to hide the simple smile that crept onto the line of his thin lips. That smile disappeared too quickly when he saw that the porch lights of his prideful house were turned off, indicating that everyone had gone to sleep. It must've been quite late if the rest of the Iero's returned home before Frank did.

He prayed silently as he groped around at the spherical doorknob of the front door, hoping to God that it wasn't locked or barricaded to keep him. With his luck, the door was open and he was able to slip inside without a single sound. He locked the door behind him, squinting to let his eyes adjust the darkness that surrounded his large home. Frank stuck his heads out in front of him to guide himself around his unlit home and up the stairs where he slid into his room and flicked the light on quickly, slamming his door to let his mother know he was finally back.

Flopping on his bed, Frank realized that he never gave Gerard's sweatshirt back to him. It was still wrapped around his body and thoughtlessly, he brought the collar up to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent was peculiar but it had to undoubtedly be one of the best smells his nostrils had ever come across in all of his seventeen years of living. It was a mixture of cinnamon and most likely rose scented candles with a hint of what seemed to be the stinging aroma of acrylic paint. lt smelled too good. It shouldn't have smelled that good. Frank couldn't understand what was wrong with him. He hated cinnamon, hell, he even hated flowers and paint.

Or did he.

Obviously, a pang of fear rattled around in his internal organs. He was slowly disappointing his entire family. He was slowly ruining everything that he had built up since he was probably ten years of age.

This is it, Frank thought as he turned on his side with the hoodie brought around his face, I'm becoming a damn fuck up.

He shouldn't have wanted to be friends with that fucking Diff. He shouldn't have wanted to hold his hand or spend more time with him. It wasn't natural. And as if it couldn't even get any worse, he held hands with a boy Diff. But he couldn't help it. There was something in the back of his head telling him that he needed to be around this boy because there was something special about him. No matter what the hell it was, he couldn't resist it. It was like a bug that couldn't be squashed.

And the memories. The damn images were another complete set of confusion that was becoming unshakeable from the dark depths of his thoughts. Of course Gerard had something to do with them, he'd been bad news since he slapped a band-aid on Frank's damaged hands a week ago. Frank's thoughts for this boy definitely weren't and obsession, but something much more innocent and interest filled.

He was just infatuated beyond his own doings and he couldn't fix it.




-



Donna and Donald had greeted Gerard warmly when he trudged into the warmth of his house, they enveloped him in their arms speaking things so ridiculous of how they thought he had gotten lost or killed. They were so wrapped up in having him back that they thankfully didn't realize that his sweatshirt was missing from his back and his hood had disappeared from his white head.

Gerard too clambered up to his room and threw himself into the safety of his queen bed, throwing the covers around his body without even bothering to strip of his jeans and T-shirt. His body was overly exhausted and his brains seemed like it was going to pound itself out of his skull from it's intense ache.

He was just about dozing off since it was close to 1am when there was a soft tap on the wooden door of his bedroom. The tap was so small and fragile that it would've been quite dumb to think it was anyone other than Mikey. Gerard sat his body up slowly with the covers pooled around his waist while his kind eyes met Mikey's dark silhouette in the middle of the doorway. His mousy brain hair was a mess on top of his head, his glasses crooked and his blanket wrapped around his boney shoulders so tightly it could've cut off his circulation.

"Mikes? What's wrong?" Gerard yawned, gesturing for his brother to come and sit beside him on the bed. Mikey did so, snuggling himself in his brother's side. He didn't say anything and that was how Gerard realized his baby brother was crying softly into his shirt.

"Mikes?" Gerard whispered and wrapped an arm around him, "You have to tell me what's wrong or I won't be able to help you."

Mikey shook his head into his brothers shoulder and let out a sob ridden hiccup, "Please don't leave us."

Gerard paused. "Why would I be leaving you?"

"I heard mom and dad talking." Mikey continued to sob, completely soaking Gerard while the small cries became harder with each heavy breath the boy took.

"What were they saying?" Gerard questioned a little more bitterly than he intended but rubbed Mikey's shoulder softly to make up for it.

"They...they said that they're..coming and they can't stop them."

Gerard tightened his hold on Mikey, "Who's coming?"

"The Diff haters, Gerard! They're coming and they're going to take you and dad can't do anything to stop them.."

Notes

im sorry i took so long to write this ive been so busy & depressed but whatevs. feedback would be neat xxx