Think Happy Thoughts

Oh God. . .was that thunder? Crap it's thunder! Are the angels bowling again? Most likely. . .Oh and look, it's raining! The clouds are taking a piss on us. . .just think about, rain comes from clouds, and it's as if they're 'unloading' themselves on us. . .jerks. . .Oh well, I love cloud urine.

Okay, back to my main problem.

Why does my father want to see me? Did I do something wrong? Did he see Gerard following us this whole time? My pessimistic side is showing isn't it? Of course. . .

But seriously, whats up with the spontaneous meeting, he never wants to talk to me on normal occasions.

As I enter his chamber, I frown. I dislike what he's done to the place. Bottles that once contained cheap rum are now scattered on the wooden floor. Maps are pinned up everywhere. X's are marked randomly, I then notice those X's mark the location Gerard has been seen. Oh yeah my father's not obsessed or anything.

Desperate, my father is absolutely desperate to catch this kid.

“Frankie me boy!” I cringe slightly, not because of his pirate grammar. I haven't been called that in forever, something is defiantly up. “How's my favorite son doing?” Fake smile, fake interest, no truth behind his act.

“I'm your only son,” Smart ass I know. I want to leave, I'm feeling awkward. My father's fake smile doesn't waver, he's going to continue his act. A forced laugh leaves his mouth, I cringe once more,

“Oh you never seize to amuse me son,” He gets up from his chair and goes to his cabinet.

That's where he stores his best rum.

“Care for a glass of Bumboo?” Wow, look who's chivalrous. I shake my head left to right, that stuff is gross, well it smells gross at least.

“I'm not old enough,” I say, trying to tick him off, “I'm just a child,” I smirk slightly, but quickly hide it when he glares at me.

“Not for long my dear boy,” Way to growl at your favorite son, eh daddy?

“So what do you want?” No need to be around the bush at a time like this.

My father looks up at me from his bottle, he smiles.

“You were always the observant fellow weren't you?” He says softly, “Just like your mother,” another mumble escapes his golden teeth, I think I wasn't supposed to hear that. Finally he's showing some kind of emotion.

“Well anyway,” that was short lived. . . “I have a mission of sorts for you,” His evil smile is put back into play and he walks towards his main map. “Take a seat will you?” With that, I sit in his favorite chair, the same chair that no one is allowed to touch. . .especially one's ass. I look over to him and see his smirk still intact, I guess he already knew I'd take his chair.

Well you know what they say, like father like son. . .

“Very well then, on with my idea,” Shit, this can't end good. “You know our favorite friend, Gerard. . .” of course I know him, it's not like all we do is try to kill him and stuff, “But you may not always notice his other friend. . .Lyn-Z,” Lyn-Z? Who the Hell's that? “In other words, she's that annoying bug that always follows him around,” Oh. . . “She's the reason he can fly. . .” OH! Whoa that makes sense. . .not really. . .

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, that's why he can fly? Because of her? My father chuckles at my expression, I guess my face is amusing. . .

“How's that possible?” My curiosity takes control and I finally ask.

My father frowns slightly, trying to answer my question.

“I don't know, Frank. . .” Once again, his cat like smile invades his expression. “And that, me dear son, is where you come in.” Ugh, again with the bad grammar! Some one needs to go back to school and pass English. “I want you,” pointing his dagger like finger to me, his evil eyes glaring into my soul, “to befriend him, learn to fly, learn that secret, find a way to get back to the mainland,” His smile grows wider, this is starting to scare me.

“Why?” I drag out the 'y' a little, just to emphasize my confusion. I try not to get freaked by his intensely creepy stare, but it isn't really working.

“So you can go to New Jersey,” pausing to give this a dramatic effect? Nice one, Hook.

I'm on the edge of my seat right now, trying to guess what he wants me to do. I'm about to ask but of course he picks that moment to cut me short.

“And meet Gerard's little brother,” He smirks at me, only because I'm about to explode from the suspense and curiosity.

“What the fuck?” I scream, forgetting about my cheese censor method, whoops. My father glares at me, and I quickly repeat what I said, just in a nicer way. “What the Cheddar?!”Yeah, that shall work. “Since when did he have a brother?! This here is a load of bilge!” My arms are flinging around the room, karate chopping the air for no apparent reason.

Again, the suspense hangs in the air before my father mutters the finale sentence.

“I want you to kidnap him,” Smirk intact, words so cold, making my blood freeze.

Kidnap?

I'm a kid! I can't just do that! What the Provolone!? A KID can't KIDnap a KID! My father continued,

“Take him from his home, bring him to me, bait our dear friend, kill him and his brother, see em both to Davy Jones, and live happily ever after,” I was staring at a snake, eyes so venomous and evil. I stayed silent, trying to process this crazy idea. Why would I do this?

“You better not hornswaggle me here, Hook!” I yell, not fully thinking the idea through. Maybe I should do this, but just to be sure my father dearest doesn't mess with me. . . letting my voice ring off the wooden walls in his cabin, I begin to seriously mull this scheme thoroughly, finally agreeing on my decision.

“What's in it for me?” My voice came out more hoarse and deep than I thought it would. Call me selfish, but I don't go around kidnapping kids for nothing. Chuckling, Hook pointed his silver hook to me.

“Revenge my dear son,” finally he has correct grammar. . . “Revenge for stealing your childhood. Revenge for breaking apart the bonds you had with me, Smee, Johnathan, and so on. I know you don't want to face it, but you know as well as I do, he's the reason you're angry, sad, scared.” Another pause. I'm still not totally convinced. “He scarred you, me dear-y. The blood, do you remember it?” Hell, I remember it. Those are my nightmares. Blood everywhere. I look up to see him glaring at the memory, boring holes into my eyes down to my untouched soul. “Your childhood was ripped away from you, you have that haunting look in your eyes ever since. He did that, he took it from you. And you know what he did?” Enter dramatic pause. . .

“He laughed,”

That line alone stabbed my heart the hardest. He laughed? He took joy in making others miserable? What kind of monster is he?

“He smiled and flew away, not caring about you one bit, he's the monster you see when you close your eyes, he's the demon that haunts your soul, he's the bad guy here, Frank. . .not me. He's the one who deserves a special place by Davy Jones, dontcha think me dear boy? ” I lost eye contact with him after learning about Gerard being happy for what he did.

Gerard deserves to be sent to Davy Jones, I'll see him to it. I may just join him there once I'm done serving my sentence here in Neverland. This isn't how a soul should live, this isn't how my story should begin.

I look up to this man standing in front of me, he isn't my daddy. Not anymore at least.

My definition of a dad is a man who cares, who looks out for you. Someone to be there to tuck you in at night. To tell you ghost stories but assure you that it's fake. That it'll be Okay. A dad is supposed to be there when you shave for the first time, to give you dating advice even if you think it's lame, and 9.9 out of 10 times it will be lame. He gives you driving lessons and helps you through bullying and the awkward puberty years. He's the one who gives you 'The Talk' and totally embarrasses you with reminding you that him and your mom had sex just to make you. His job is to scar you and scare you into using condoms and keeping it in your pants. He's the one who sits in the crowd and waves slightly when you go to get your diploma. Or when you say I Do and practically begs you to NOT say those words without thinking about it first. Trying to talk you out of marriage or having children, but still supporting your decision either way.

A dad is supposed to lay there while you cry over their hospital bed. Lay there while you have those same flash backs of when they were young, and not having their soul sucked out of their body's with every shaky breath they can muster. When they cried beside you at your mother's funeral.

Lay there while you regret thinking about how lame they were, or how you thought they were embarrassing. Regret all the days you didn't visit at the nursing home. To regret all the times you secretly said you hating them. Or how you rushed out that same door you saw for 18 years and drove (in that same car your father gave you hands-on driving lessons) over the speed limit to your college, ready to forget about your family and start your own.

A dad is made for you to take advantage of their love.

My father is a pirate in a fairy-tale land. A land without a fairy-tale ending. He kills for a living, going around stealing treasure and spitting into faces. War over gold is to be expected as a child.

Let me spare you anymore details and just leave you with this; my father doesn't reach the standards to be considered a 'dad', let alone my 'daddy'. That title has lost it's meaning long ago.

My father took advantage of MY love.

Once loving and caring for me, now just an empty shell of the want-to-be pirate he is now. His hair has grown longer and wasn't as cared for as before, his eyes held no shine, teeth yellowed and decayed, face sagged. I had to give him something, for him to give me something in return. I wasn't making a deal with my father. . .

“What do I have to do?”

I was making a deal with the devil. . .selling my soul into slavery for one thing only. . .

Revenge.

*Gerard's POV*

Still sitting in the eye socket of Skull Rock, I notice a body floating in the water. Okay. . .that's not normal. . .especially when the ocean's going crazy in the middle of a storm.

“Hey!” I cry out, trying to get the person's attention. Oh shit, this isn't good. I shout again, still getting no response.

Flying over to the body I notice the familiar face. I see blood on his forehead and no movement coming from his small figure.

“Frank! Dude get up!” Being careful not to hurt his head anymore than it already is, I cradle him in to my dark clothed arms and bring him to the sandy ground, getting soaked in the process. This rain isn't helping the situation what so ever!

“Dude!” I tried to slap his face a little, making sure not to bitch slap him completely. I let his head lay on my thigh and bend my knees a little so he wouldn't roll of. “Hey, man wake up!” I slapped a little harder this time, this mother fucker wouldn't wake up! I begin to pet his hair gently, trying to comb it off his bloodied forehead.

I chose this time to fully investigate and observe his features. Light, olive skin, just like most Italians. Not a big nose though, but not tiny either, definitely Italian. He also had a small diamond stub on the indent of his nose.

His lips were perfect, rose-y pink, and sported a bad ass black ring on the right side. His lips looked soft like cotton candy, and the piece of metal in between them made it almost irresistible to not capture his warm lips, which would contrast greatly against the cold metal.

His raven hair cascaded down his neck slightly, but not completely down his neck, it framed his face in an angle so angelic. In his hair there was a black bandana, the same bandana that has always been on top of his head, in it's rightful place. Next I noticed the blood.

The warm liquid that ran down his cold face, ruining the innocent mask he put on. The red substance that stained everything it touched, now flowed freely from the crack in his skull. What the fuck do I do!?

After my panicking instincts died down, I tried to actually sit there and think. Finally an idea struck me. Carefully peeling off his bandana, I folded the material so it looked more like a black headband. I slipped it back around his forehead, attempting to stop the blood from destroying his face any further.

After the cloth was firmly positioned, I elevated his head slightly. I placed Frank into a sitting position, letting his head rest on the crook of my neck. I cradled him once more and stood up, child-like teen still securely in my arms. I pushed myself (and Frankie) off the uneven ground and took off into the air.

I zoomed out of the eye-socket and made my way over the clouds. Getting struck by lightning wouldn't be good at a time like this. After I was at a safe height, I tried to calculate where I'd go.

The pretty flashes I saw in the gray clouds couldn't be marveled at this time, which really bummed me out. Watching a thunderstorm over thunderstorm clouds is very entertaining.

I had to find a crack in between two clouds and hope for the best. And that's exactly what I did. My grip on the boy in my arms tightened, and I tilted my body forwards in a jerk-y type manner. I flew with all my might, trying to get to safety as soon as possible.

I made it to the jungle and began my course to the hide out. Finally reaching the oddly shaped tree, I flew through the opening and quietly went to my room. It was kind of separated from the rest of the gang, which I liked. It's was kind of like a basement IN a basement. . .if that's possible.

I set him down tenderly on top of my bear skin covered bed, hoping that he was comfortable and still breathing. I put my ear dangerously close to his soft, warm, inviting, slightly agape mouth. His hot breath found my freezing and wet ear. Chills invaded my frail being. The hair on the back of my neck suddenly perked up to the air.

Great, this kid gave my hair a boner!

Tearing myself away from this boy, I remembered something. . .

This boy is the son of my greatest enemy. . .

When did my life become a shitty re-make of Romeo and Juliet!?