You're My Nicotine

Frank got out of his car in a hurry and stopped at the locked gates of the cemetery.

"Fuck!" he cried, shaking the padlocked barriers, twice the size of him. But he knew this wouldn't have stopped October getting in.

Pacing around the outside of the graveyard, he searched for another way in, looking for any sign of broken fence or something lower to climb over. Fortunately he came across another gate, a not so tall one but still locked. It came up to his neck and he managed to heave himself up over it, landing with a thump on his feet.

Brushing himself down, Frank started down the stone path of the place that held thousands of memories to people all over the country. He came to the lawn and began across the moist grass. He squinted into the distance, trying to make out anything at all, but the dark made it difficult.

He was terrified, sure. The only time he would take walks through cemeteries were during the day, it was peaceful and would calm him, but he never found the time to do it anymore. And now strolling through one in the early hours of the morning wasn't exactly calming, only brought on fear and paranoria.

So he decided to pick up the pace.

He strained his ears to pick up any sound, any movement elsewhere, but retrieved nothing. The eerie presence that had settled certainly wasn't helping, and only made things worse as his wide eyes desperately scanned all around.

Dodging around crumbling tombstones and dead, rotting flowers, Frank came to small mausoleum and stopped himself from heading straight into the wall that stood there. He started making his way around it, and there it was, an exhale of wobbly breath. Stopping dead in his tracks, he strained his ears once again and heard sniffling coming from round the front.

Dashing to where the weak noises were coming from, Frank spotted the dark haired girl kneeling on the soggy grass, one hand gripping onto it as the other held her chest in pure fright.

"Oh October," he breathed, racing over to her and dropping to his knees in front of the fragile teenager.

She looked up at him, black tears streaming down her white face, her pale lips dry and cracked, her pupils expanded in fear. She was struggling to breathe and her chest ached.

"Oh baby," he whispered and immediately pulled her to him, holding her head as it rested against his chest. He knew a panic attack when he saw one and he was going to do all he could to try and ease it off the poor girl. "Sshh, it's okay," he told her, "Everything's gonna be fine, baby, I just need you to breathe for me."

October clutched onto the back of Frank's jacket, holding him so tightly, taking in the small pants of air she could. Frank realised she was breathing normally again when she burst into heart-wrenching sobs. He could feel them ripping through her and it sent shivers down his back.

Frank's heart ached for October as he saw her like this. Never before had he seen her eyes look so lost, so vulnerable, so fragile. Her face was streaked with tears and mascara, she looked so broken. He could feel her hot tears soak through his t-shirt as he softly and quietly spoke words of comfort into her hair.

He didn't want October to feel like this. He hated to see her cry and look so alone.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, he held her face in his hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. Giving her a kiss on the forehead, he once again held her as tight as he could, whispering, "It’s okay, I’m here."

Frank was scared, he was scared of how he felt about October would ruin everything. He just couldn't control himself anymore though, seeing her like this, he felt he needed to be the one who mended her.

"You've worried a lot of people," he told her quietly.

She couldn't reply, only sniffle and blubber, and the pressure around Frank's upper body slowly decreased as the attack seemed to gradually subside. She pulled back, exhausted, and wiped her face with the back of her trembling hands.

"I-I don't deserve to have you here, Frank," she sniffed, retrieving the vodka and holding it in her lap.

"Come on, don't be silly," he replied, frowning at the half empty bottle of the spirit.

"I didn't mean to upset anyone..." she trailed off and took down some of the alcoholic drink, wincing a little, "Everything just got so fucked up."

"I know," Frank said softly, and looked at the headstone sat in front of them both, "I know."

There in black letters were the words, the words of the name printed on the damp stone.

Aidan Freeman.

"Shall we go home?" Frank asked.

"What's the point?" she replied, "My dad doesn't want me there."

"That's crap," he retorted, "I had him on the phone to me almost in tears, I've never heard him so scared. He's worried sick, both of your parents are... I'm sure Joey's missing his older sister."

She gave out a small whimper and clasped one hand over her face, "I don't want to go back just yet."

"Okay," Frank whispered. "Do you wanna come and sit on the steps?" he suggested, "It's wet down here."

October got up and followed him over to the mausoleum, placing herself down on the solid steps by the door, next to Frank. A breeze blew past and it was hard for Frank not to shiver.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot out here..." October broke the silence, "I was thinking about the day with Walker and the gun... When he pointed it at me, what would have happened if I hadn't had gotten out of there... would he have really shot me? The more I think about it, the more curious I get about whether it would have been better if he had..."

Frank shook his head sternly, "Don't say that-"

"No, think about it, think about it, maybe... it would have made everything better," she slurred, "Maybe everyone would have been happier, you know? I mean, my parents wouldn't have to cope with having a 'demented' daughter, and my friends wouldn't have to award me 'Bitch Of The Year', and you wouldn't have to deal with a mixed up girl who-who's fucked up in the head..."

Frank stared at her in disgust and shock. Did this really go through her mind? Was this really what she felt everyone thought about her?

"October, you have no idea what you're talking about..."

"Yes I do!"

"No!" he argued, shaking his head at her disagreeingly, "The only person that hates you is you... Nobody else does!"

"Bullshit, how can anyone like me, I'm a fucking crazy, drunk person sitting in the middle of a fucking cemetery!"

"You're not crazy, Octy!" Frank told her, "You may be a little nutty, but that's what makes you, you, and that's what we love about you."

October just looked away, down to her lap, and when she said nothing, Frank continued.

"We love you, Octy, all of us," he said, emphasising the 'all'.

Her eyes flew up to him. "And you?" she questionned, "You love me?"

Frank didn't say anything, he couldn't.

"No, of course you don't," she answered for herself, "You can't love me, I'm just a kid, remember?" She looked away again and gulped down some more vodka, wincing again afterwards.

"I can't stop thinking about you..."

October's heart stopped at his soft words. She felt her eyes draw back to him slowly, he was looking out into the pitch black distance, like he was deep in thought.

"Once I got that glimpse of you walking out into your backyard on your dad's birthday... I couldn't keep that image out." He chuckled very lightly and added, "Thinking about it now, it can give me butterflies."

October opened her mouth to speak, but no words found their way to her tongue. Was it the drink or was he really saying these words?

"It fucking freaks me out that someone your age can have this effect on me, I mean, at first I was totally freaked, I didn't know what the fuck to do... I kept telling myself that I was losing my mind, this is wrong, I shouldn't be feeling like this, you know?"

All these secrets Frank had kept bottled up were finally coming to the surface. His heart was pouring out right in front of October and she had been completely oblivious to it all.

"Plus, we live, like, worlds apart, I'll be all the way in New Jersey, the place I grew up, my home... and you'll be all the way over here in Los Angeles, living the life of a Rock Star's daughter... It's so complicated, we're two completely different people, it-it just wouldn't work."

He sighed and scratched the back of his head hopelessly, and then October finally spoke up, "We're not completely different."

Frank turned his head to look at her, waiting for the rest of her statement.

"We both own a pair of 'Happy Feet' boxers..."

The smile broke across his face quickly and he burst into laughter, setting October off. The pair were in a fit of giggles for quite a while, before their laughter gradually quietened.

October held out the bottle of vodka towards Frank and he gladly took it, taking a swig from the spirit.

"Fuck," he coughed, "You drank half the bottle of this stuff?"

She shrugged with a small smile and watched as he took another swig. Out of no where, two beams of light caught their eyes. Both their heads snapped towards the direction the light was coming from and their faces dropped when two men came pacing towards them. Cemetery keepers.

One of them pointed their flashlight at the pair and Frank instantly stood.

"Come on, we gotta go," he said, blinded by the light.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" one of them called over, both of them getting nearer.

"Come on," Frank hurried October with a smirk and grabbed her hand, the vodka in the other.

She giggled as he pulled her to her feet and they both made a run for it.

"Hey!" yelled the keeper.

Frank looked behind as he and the teenager ran towards the gate, and saw the keepers racing after them. "Come on," he said to October as the two sniggered with one other.

She held onto his hand tightly, laughing and trying her best to catch up in her not-so-sober state.

The pair managed to get away without getting caught, and Frank called the Armstrongs on the drive to their place, glad to bring their daughter back safely. October knocked on the front door and it was swung open immediately before she was suffocated in open arms, three pairs of them. Adrienne was crying, Joey was laughing, and Billie Joe was apologising to his daughter as she did in return.

Frank watched on, smiling as the family held each other so desperately.

Billie stepped over to him and patted the younger punk's shoulder. "Thank you so much, man," he said, "You have no idea how greatful we are."

"I was just glad she was at the cemetery like I thought, otherwise God knows what we would have done."

"Tell me about it," Billie breathed.

Frank chuckled lightly. "Well I better be off, it's late and I should leave you guys to it."

"Yeah, alright, buddy," he nodded.

"I'll see you guys," Frank announced.

"Thanks again, Frank," Adrienne smiled to the rocker.

"No problem," he answered, returning it, and then October wrapped her skinny arms around his neck, clinging to him in a hug. He slowly moved his arms up to place them around her middle as he felt her breathing down his neck delicately.

She whispered into his ear so only he could hear, "You're my hero, Frankenstein."

Frank smiled into her shoulder and broke away, watching as she headed inside the house.

Once the Armstrongs had finished all their 'sit down' talking and discussing of what had just happened, the small headache that October had felt from the beginning soon increased into a much more throbbing pain. She headed upstairs after telling her parents goodnight, and grabbed a bottle of pills from her bedroom cabinate before taking the last two that were in the bottom of the bottle. The vodka had really messed with her head.

She then unpacked her school bag and switched off her cell, removing her DCs and socks. Holding the now dirty blue socks, she brought the empty pill bottle into the bathroom, dropping it in the opaque trash can sitting in the corner, and the socks into the laundry basket next to the sink. Coming out and back into her bedroom, she closed the blinds and walked over to her bed to retrieve her Superman pyjamas. But as she leaned over to pick them up, she fell forward onto the bed, suddenly not having the energy to stop herself.

October shrugged it off, thinking she was just tired, and stood back up on the carpeted floor with her pyjamas, but her legs started to wobble and this time fell backwards onto the bed. She felt weak.

What was happening?

Could it have been anything to do with the pills? Had she taken the right ones? Of course she had, she knew the pink ones were strong painkillers. Two of them would normally stop the headache within minutes. October staggered her way back into the bathroom, quizzing herself about the pills. She fell to her knees heavily in front of the trash and fished out the bottle. She turned it round, scanning the extremely small writing on the back. There it was, in black and white.

'Do not under ANY circumstances take within 3 hours of consuming any other drug or alcohol.'

Alcohol. Her vision started to blur.

"Are you coming to bed?" Billie Joe asked his wife in the kitchen, stroking her shoulder gently as she put away the last of the dishes.

"I'll be up in a minute," she replied with a small smile.

He nodded and began on his way up the stairs. He passed Joey's room, checking to see his son was sleeping soundly, which he was, before heading on down to October's room. He walked in and found it empty. Asuming she was in the bathroom, he went back the way he came, going towards his and Adrienne's room. But on the way, he passed the bathroom, the light was on and the door was open. October never left it open whilst in there.

"October?" he called cautiously as he stepped into the room. He looked round the back of the door and his heart dropped. He stopped breathing.

"Oh my God," he exhaled as he fell to his knees. He looked down at the body lying next to him.

His daughter's body.

"October, can you hear me?" he asked. His voice was shaky.

Her eyes were closed and her face looked pale, paler than he had ever seen it. An empty bottle which once held pills was littered on the floor above her head. Picking it up, his fear-filled eyes looked at it in pure shock.

"No!" cried Billie as he dropped the bottle back to the tile floor.

She couldn't have. She wouldn't.

"Sweetheart?" he whispered, shaking her frail body as his eyes filled with unshed tears, "Don't do this to me, please, don't do this!"