September Skies

Frank got the piece of blood stained paper and scanned it. I looked at him eagerly. His face was different, it had an expression I couldn't read. Doubt? Misery?. . .or maybe just the shock.

"It's not true. . ." He muttered, shaking his head slightly.

"What do you mean it's not true?" I yelled, "That's his handwriting!!!"

I turned away, sobbing as a hand touched my shoulder.

"If it were true. . .he'd tell me of course. . .he wouldn't keep this from me." Frank whispered in a soothing voice, then he turned to look at the piece of paper once more.

"What if he did. . ." I whispered. "What if he kept it away from you so you wouldn't worry?"

His face froze like a stone, certainly he couldn't respond to that because it was the biggest possibility. . .what if he kept it away from you so you wouldn't worry?

He turned his face away and it flushed into a depressed troubled face. "He still wouldn't do that." He mumbled.

I hugged Frank, and after a few long seconds he sniffed and caressed my hair.

"Why would he hide this from me?" i muttered, burrying my face into Frank's arms.

"For the same reason you think he'd hide it from me." Frank whispered.

"So. . he had to wait until I'd find out for myself?" I yelled, which startled Frank. I glared at Frank, who was at this point, teary eyed. I broke the embrace and stood up. Frank looked at me and hung his head.

My features softened. I hated it when I yelled at Frank. . .he didn't deserve it. Yes, those beautiful soft compassionate eyes didn't deserve it, how could I be so selfish and stubborn?

"I'm sorry, Frank." I said, softly and locked the embrace once more.

I sobbed once more on his chest which was drenched with the mixture of my tears and his.

"I understand. I feel the pain, don't be sorry." He whispered softly.

I felt the pang of guilt again. I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve his compassion, his understanding. . .his care. After all he's done for me, I've never gotten the chance to repay him. Again, I didn't deserve it.

I slowly stood up and went out of the room. I marched the way to my room and locked myself in my small closset,

"Kaehl!" Frank called, running after me.

I started to sob harder. Each tear signified the guilt, it signified the pain. . .and symbolized the misery. Each wound in my body didn't anymore matter, because the fact of my father in pain is the biggest wound anyone in the world could ever have. . .

"Kaehl?" A soft whisper came from the creaking holes of the closset. "I'm sorry whatever I said, I really am."

I flushed red. I've hurt him. . .i know I did. "No, Frank it's not you. It's never you." I croaked. The real reason popped in my head. My dad has cancer, he's had it for a few years. . .dad has cancer, this can't be real. Dad can't have cancer.

"Kaehl, come out. You know you can't hide from it."

I peeked through the small creak and crept back up, I was red. I looked as if I was swallowed by a whale. But you know, I had the best reason in the world to look like that.

"Not all cancers kill people." Frank said, sticking to the bright.

"Cancer kills, Frank. It kills. There's no escaping, there's no cure." I whispered.

Frank held my face with both his hands. My teary eyes met with his. "There's always hope. Have faith, Kaehl."

I nodded solemnly with doubt. There was slight optimism in Frank's voice, but percentage of doubt took over.

And a few seconds after, a moment I've never asked to come. . .came. Dad came marching up the stairs. "Frankie? Kaehl? Gosh, what's taking so long? Does it take that long to find a notepad?" He asked, his voice echoed through the staircase.

And after a small creak of the door and a turn of a doorknob, Gerard Way entered my room. He froze on his tracks as he deciphered our faces, our appearance. I froze with Frank. I wanted to approach him, how I wanted to hear his voice. His voice saying it will be okay. . .it will be alright. . .everything's fine. . .i wanted to hear it.

"What---" Gerard started to ask as he noticed the crumpled note in frank's pocket. Dad started to swallow hard, a big rock stuck in his throat.

I looked at Frank, reading his eyes. And the eye communication arrived. . .

we should tell him. . . i said.

should we?

we can't keep this to ourselves Frank. . .it's too heavy. . .

it will be heavier for him. . .much much heavier, Kaehl. . .

we have no choice. . .

He nodded once and closed his eyes.

I marched my way to my father's side. He gasped as he noticed my bloody wounds and the scar on my rosered lips. I caught him in a hug.

"Kaehl, what happened to you?" He whispered, worried.

I ignored his question completely, I gave a deep breath. "Dad. . ." I whispered, hoarse from all the tears. "Do you really have cancer?"