Frankie Fever

"Gerard?!" Dad squeaked out in shock.

He scrabbled around his ankles for his pants.

I stayed silent and rooted to the spot. My newfound Gee-ego withered and wilted, shrinking where I stood. My Dad. My Father. I'd just caught my Father cheating on Mom. And with a girl young enough to be my sister! I felt sick to the stomach. My insides lurched.

The roots tore beneath me as I ran. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and the erratic pumping of blood surging through me just like the sick feeling was surging through my insides. I wanted my Mom. I wanted her to take me in her arms and stroke my fringe and kiss my forehead whilst promising it was all okay like she did when I was little. I wanted Frank. I wanted him to listen to my story with his eyes shining in shock and then for him to cuss and insult my Dad with words that would make a sailor feel uncomfortable and then hug me with his comforting arms around me securely and to kiss me fully on the lips with comfort and passion.

"Gerard!" Dad cried after me as I slammed the front door behind me and broke off into a sprint.

How could he? We'd only just moved here and-and the point of us moving here was to make a fresh start and be a happy family again! Oh God, oh God, oh God!

She looked so young about twenty! Twenty-three at the latest; maybe she just looked young for her age? Still that didn't make it any better! She was long-limbed and tanned with bouncing blonde hair and big blue eyes that had widened like Bambi's when she saw me standing there in my school uniform, looking the picture of innocence with my dopey long black hair and scruffy school-tie.

The laces on my school shoes had come undone and were flapping about loosely while I ran. Oh God, oh God, oh God!

"Gerard, just wait a minute! Please!"

I couldn't run fast enough. His heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder and propelled me around to face him.

I'd definitely reverted back to wimpy little Gerard again. My eyes were brimming. I could hardly see his face, thank God. I didn't want to have to look at him. I didn't want to hear what he had to say! He wouldn't be able to worm himself out of this one!

"Gerard, come on," He said softly with an expression that screamed Guilty "It's not like that!"

"Then how is it?" I demanded, my voice cracking "It looked pretty much like what it is when I walked in! How can something so obvious be 'not-like-that'?"

He fidgeted and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Then I noticed his hair.

Black.

It hadn't looked like that when I left for school that morning.

"It's just not!"

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She was a hairdresser. Just like Mom. Only younger. And blonder. And skinnier.

I gave him a look of disbelief and despair.

He looked at up at me properly for the first time. His expression was almost an attempt at comforting. But it wasn't, it just made me feel sicker.

"Don't tell your Mom."

I let my next exhale come out in a gasp of shock. All he could think about was me not telling Mom. I'd just caught him, for God's sake. Could he not think about how I might have been feeling? It was pretty obvious from the look on my face, surely!

And all he could come out with was 'Don't tell your Mom.'

I shook my head in disbelief, turned and ran.

He didn't follow me.

* * *

I don't know how I ended up there, I just did. I don't even remember the journey there. All I can remember is desperately wanting someone to talk to and to comfort me. And that's how I found myself in front of that cheap door with the peeling red paint.

The figure loomed on the otherside and the door was opened. Wrong Frank Iero.

"Hello, Gerard," He said with a polite smile "I was just gonna' make Frankie call you actually! I'm heading out and I need someone to make sure he doesn't have a girl over."

You've got the wrong boy! Frank wouldn't care if I was there or not. Not if he really wanted that girl.

Frank Iero senior called Frank to the front door with a sharp bark of 'FRANK! Get your lazy ass out here now! You've got a guest!' Poor Frankie.

Frank stumbled into view quickly to see who'd come to visit him. He smiled at the sight of me and beckoned me in. Mr. Iero senior grabbed a jacket and was gone. Frank slammed the door after him and up went the middle finger.

My Father. A woman that young. . . It was sick. It was wrong. She was closer to my age surely!

Frank turned back to me with a grin.

Then he saw my expression.

"What is it?" He questioned "What's wrong?"

That's when everything finally caught up with me. My stomach gave a sharp stab of warning. I clapped a hand over my mouth and ran.

Frank cleared the way for me and leapt back as I retched once and vomited violently into his toilet. . .

* * *

"I'm really sorry," I mumbled, my teeth clinking against the cold glass as I tried to take a sip of the water Frank had just handed me.

"It's fine," He promised "I still don't get why you couldn't puke at your own house, though," He added with a cheeky grin.

I wasn't in the mood for his larking about. He seemed to pick that up from my unimpressed expression as I stared blankly at the bright red wall in front of me. The bed shifted as Frank sat next to me and put one strong arm around my shoulders.

"What is it, Gerard?"

I didn't know where to start.

"I. . . he. . . didn't want to. . ."

"What?" He questioned "In English, please."

I managed the four words.

"My Dad. . . another woman. . ."

Frank cussed just like I'd predicted. He threw violent insults at the bright red wall as if it were my Father. Where was my kiss?

I was hungry.

I wanted to kiss Frank.

I wanted us to love.

"I'm sorry, Gerard!" Frankie promised, squeezing me tight "If there's anything I can do!"

He'd melted from the hard, sharp, witty Frank he normally was. His eyes said something different now. They were softer and looked easily bruised. Was this how he'd looked when his Mom ran away?

"It hurts, doesn't it?" He said gently.

I nodded.

I wanted a drink.

I didn't want to think about it anymore.

"I guess everyone's different but if you feel anything like I did when my Mom left, I feel so bad for you!" He murmured "It felt like there was this big empty space in the house. And like a part of me was missing. I felt so empty after she left. I used to walk around with my arms wrapped around me like I was trying to keep everything inside in case I exploded or something. I felt emptiness. . ."

Thankfully, Frankie morphed back into his normal gritty, edgy self and promised he knew exactly what I needed. He was gone for a moment. I got up to take a look at myself in the hall mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and I was pale like a ghost.

Frank returned with my newfound friend. He had two cans of coke and a bottle of vodka. The good stuff from his Dad's drink cabinet. Normally I would've fussed, not wanting Frank to get into any trouble but tonight I really didn't care.

He opened a can, ordered me to take a gulp, then poured a generous amount of the vodka into it. I gulped it down greedily.

More.

More.

More.

My head was starting to swim.

I was starting to forget.

I didn't care anymore.

All I remember focusing on was Frank.

My beautiful Frank.

We no longer cared about anyone but ourselves. It's good to be selfish sometimes. Black Flag full-blast. Frank plugged his guitar in and played along as best he could. The neighbours banged on the walls from both sides and rattled the front door with their fists but we really couldn't care less. It's fun to forget.

It's fun to forget.

It's fun to drink with the one you love the most.

Love.

Was that the word to describe how I felt. Was that really the right word? Did I love him? Argh, I didn't care and I didn't want to think about it now. I'd think about it tomorrow.

Cigarettes.

Frank with a cigarette wedged between his lips while he played along to the loud roar of his music was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen.

Grey smoke wafted above my head forgotten, while I watched him with a drunken grin. He had a sheen of sweat across his forehead, little beads running down the back of his neck. It was common for Frank to get too into his guitar.

I don't know how late we stayed up. I remember his Dad coming home and yelling himself hoarse at Frank. Then we switched everything off and collapsed half-on the bed and half-on the floor.