Battling the Loss You Live For.

Frank’s Point of View
After dinner, everyone dispersed to do their own thing. Katie went off to meet some guy called Josh, Sydney went to visit her parents and Charley went out to London Road, where there were some crappy shops and small supermarkets.
Sazzy and I sat on the couch in the living room, watching a film we’ve both seen dozens of times before – Edward Scissorhands. She was a sucker for Johnny Depp.
“Are you going to tell me now?” she asked so quietly, I thought I was hearing things.
“Tell you what?” I asked, confused. She looked up at me from her position. Her head was resting on my chest, her arms wrapped around my neck.
“Why you’re here.”
“Oh…”
What do I say? And where the hell do I start?
She still looked up at me, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
“You look really cute right now,” she grinned, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. I rolled my eyes.
“Cuter than Johnny Depp?”
“Way cuter than Johnny Depp,” she confirmed, pecking me on the cheek. I smiled at her, stroking her hair. Her eyes closed, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Tell me now?” she said softly, running a hand through the back of my hair.
“My Dad kinda made me,” I mumbled, not meeting her gaze.
“Hmm… what did he say?” she asked, she seemed more laid back about it than I thought. I looked down at her, seeing her big brown eyes full of wonder.
I told her everything that had happened after the phone call we had the other day, from the minute I hung up to the moment I got on the plane.
“But… your Dad told you to come back… does he know you’re going back?” she asked, her eyebrows knitted together, her expression was one full of thought.
“I… no, actually…” I said, realising my Dad doesn’t really know much – just that I went, did what he told me to.
“Shouldn’t you tell him? I mean… I don’t want you getting a black eye or something when you get back,” she chuckled, resting her head in the crook of my neck. I picked up my phone from the side table next to me, dialling the number of the calling card I knew so well, and then the hospital’s number.
“Frank Iero for Frank Iero,” I muttered into the phone, sounding like a dick for saying my name twice. Sazzy giggled. I heard my fathers’ voice, then him clearing his throat.
“F-Frankie-e?” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Hey, Dad,”
“Y-you better be w-where I t-think you a-are,” he warned, his tone serious.
“Yeah. I am,” I said, feeling slightly proud in making my Dad happy, proud of me.
“G-good. T-tell her I s-say hello,” he said, and I could tell there was a big smile on his face.
“Dad… you know I’m coming back… right?” I said, almost scared to hear his answer. He didn’t say anything, but I could hear the pattern of his breathing.
“Y-you what?!”
“Dad, I-”
“I’m going to k-kick your f-fuckin’ ass if I s-see you without h-her!” he yelled so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Sazzy’s eyes were wide.
“Dad, but she can’t, she has her whole li-”
“S-stop all this f-fuckin’ bulls-shit, y-you idiot,” he cried, his voice livid.
“Y-you both c-can’t live w-without each o-other, y-you-!”
“Dad, please try to understand, I have to come back for-”
“This conversation is-s o-over. I g-got to go, F-Frankie, I l-love you, e-even though y-you’re a c-complete i-idiot,” he mumbled, and I chuckled.
“I love you too, Dad. Bye,” as soon as I huge up, Sazzy’s face softened, almost apologetic.
“I can’t come back with you,” she whispered, biting her lip.
“I know. You can’t… wait… why?”
“I have college next week.”
“Oh. I totally forgot about that,” I said, scratching my head. She grinned, rolling her eyes.
“When are you going back to school?” she asked, turning back to the film.
“The day after I go back,” I said, letting her settle back on my chest, wrapping my arms around her frail body.
“How come you got so thin?” I asked. I didn’t know if she’d flip a shit or not.
“…I have?”
“Yeah. You’re like… really thin. It’s kinda unhealthy,” I explained, looking down at her. Her eyes were glued to the screen, the colours it emitted flicking over her deep brown eyes. I only noticed then that her eyes looked sunken in and had bags under them, like she was ill, or didn’t sleep much. I could tell she didn’t want this conversation. Well, tough luck.
“You’re no different,” she said, almost curtly.
“Sazzy,” I said sternly. She sighed.
“Sorry… I’m being a whore again,”
“No, you’re not. I just want to know why,” I said, tightening my grip on her. I could fit my hand around her arm.
“I dunno. I just don’t really have any time to eat, I guess,” she mumbled.
“You’re so crap at lying,” I said, chuckling. She grimaced.
“Your excuse?” she asked.
“You.”
“The weed?”
“You,” she sighed at my repeated answer.
“I don’t deserve you,” she commented, her eyes still set on the TV screen. I looked down at her, lifting her up to meet my gaze.
“I don’t deserve you,” I said sternly, almost angry. How and why would she say that?! I slammed my lips against hers, kissing her roughly. She pulled back, shocked.
“Frank, what-”
“Don’t ever say that again.”
Her eyes grew wide and confused, her fingers caressing my cheek. She stayed silent.
“Promise me,” I said, too bitterly. She nodded, burying her head into the crook of my neck, her legs wrapped around my waist and arms curled around my neck. I draped my arms around her, pulling her into me even more.
“Sorry… that I’m a fucking wanker,” I said, apologizing for my disgusting tone. I never said stuff like that with her. She smiled.
“It’s alright. Whores and wankers go together,” she replied, chuckling. I pulled her head from my neck, my hands on her cheeks and my eyes locked on hers.
“You’re not a whore,”
“And you’re not a wanker.”
“I love you,” I whispered, and she leant forward, her lips brushing mine slowly, deliberately.