Keep Running

It was a Sunday today, so me and Frank had just decided to go out for a while, since it was a nice day. Sure, the two of us got some pretty weird looks walking through the park holding hands with bruises adorning both of our faces, but neither of us seemed to mind.

When we reached Frank’s house once more, I noticed that his mother’s care wasn’t in the driveway. It’s a Sunday, the small possibility that she could be at work was no longer a possibility.

Of course, Frank being Frank, he didn’t realise the car was missing. He just waltzed into the house, the door unlocked; rambling on about how he was hungry and was glad we decided to come home.

“Frank…where’s your mom?” I asked, interrupting his rambles.

“Huh?” He mumbled, walking into the kitchen, turning around to look at me, “I don’t know, the door was unlocked, she’s probably upstairs, fucking drinking or something. I don’t know,” he said, going over to the fridge, taking out two cans of coke, handing one to me.

“Thanks,” I told him, smiling, “But…erm, your mom’s car wasn’t on the drive…”

“Shame,” he muttered, cracking open his can, taking a sip, “Gerard, I don’t care where she is. Sure, she’s my mom, I still…I still love her, but after all this shit, I don’t care.”

I smiled at him gently, wrapping an arm around him, “You’re strong, Frankie,” I said, kissing his cheek, “and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he grinned, pressing his lips to mine gently.

Whilst we were kissing, I flicked an eye open, spotting something on the kitchen table.

“Frank,” I mumbled against his mouth, wanting to investigate what the object was. But Frank took it in a different way. He pushed himself against me further, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

“Yes, Gerard?” He replied, walking me backwards until the backs of my thighs were met with the wooden table.

“Frankie, there’s something on the table,” I breathed, his hazel eyes so close to my own.

“So?” He asked, grinning at me, pushing me down so I was sat on the table, him stood in-between my legs.

“I think it’s a note, Bunny, I want to see what it says,” I said, trying to look behind me, to try and locate the note.

“Fine,” he whined, standing impatiently, placing his coke can on the table next to me, joining mine.

I reached my hand back for the note, gripping it between my pale fingers.

Scrawled in messy, rushed handwriting, was indeed, a note.

“I can't live with that thing in my house. Keep the house. I'll ruin him. Keep Running.”

Uh-oh.

“Um…Frankie…” I said, looking up at him through my eyelashes, “You might want to read this…”

He took the note from my fingers, his facial expression confused as he read through the paper, and, when he’d finished reading it, a smile adorned his features. I was confused as to why. His mother had just left him, left him to fend for himself in a huge house with his boyfriend that she hates so much.

“Gerard, this is…this is awesome! We can live in here by ourselves! Oh my god, we can live off the money my dad left in his will! I can finally buy that guitar I’ve always wanted! Gerard, this is actually our house now! I’m sixteen years old and I’ve got my own fucking house!” He squealed, jumping on my lap and throwing his arms around me.

I just stared ahead of me.

I’m gonna have to get a job. Frank’s father’s will money won't get us that far.

How could she just leave her son like that? Her only child. Especially since he no longer has is dad.

What does that note even mean? What is it supposed to tell us?

Well, it’s blatantly obvious that it tells us that she wasn’t able to live with me here, or that she didn’t want to live with me here. But what the fuck is ‘I’ll ruin him’ supposed to mean? She can't exactly ruin me more than I already am.

And then there was that ending. There was that ending, that ending that was only just a beginning.

‘Keep Running.’